


Weaved Dreams

by Lotto95



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, Hella Season One Vibes, Smut, Swan Queen Supernova 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:44:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15817305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotto95/pseuds/Lotto95
Summary: Another curse. Of course it is, and this one’s wiped Emma Swan’s memories clean. Now she’s stuck living a life she has no recollection of choosing, isn’t surewhyshe chose it, and every time she closes her eyes she experiences one unexplainable dream after the next. As if that wasn’t enough, the mayor insists on antagonizing her at every turn, even if Emma has no idea why shehatesher so fiercely (aside from that one tiny incident where she accused her of attempted murder), but to be fair, Regina’s threats were completely unwarranted. So there’s that.But maybe...just maybe, this curse is exactly what Emma needs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cesibear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesibear/gifts), [Swan_mills7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swan_mills7/gifts), [Angeii_K](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angeii_K/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Weaved Dreams [Protostar]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15811452) by [cesibear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesibear/pseuds/cesibear). 



> I have to give massive thank you to the mods because you guys are heroes. 
> 
> Of course, a thank you to my artist who created the stunning piece of art that inspired this fic. Please go and check it out and give lots of love. It's been fun collaborating with you. 
> 
> A thank you goes to my wifey for supporting me, having long skype chats to run over plot and threatening the worst possible thing ever (re: cs gifs) even if it meant putting yourself through torture to motivate me to write when my will to live was in question! 
> 
> A massive shout out and thank you to Zelene for bascially turning into a full time beta. I could not have done it with without you. I appreciate everything you've done for me. You're a rockstar. 
> 
> I hope you guys like this. There is some Hook and cs in this (I know, I know, my bad), but I've kept him in the background as much as the fic will allow. Enjoy!

_59 days into the curse._

_Great progress._  

 

Emma flinches, the words an instant trigger after weeks of repetition. She smiles weakly, eyes flickering down before she forces eye contact. She swallows down the truth with a tight, “Yeah.” She wiggles, tugs on the flowery dress then shoves her hands beneath her legs, pushing onto the balls of her feet.

 

_Emma._

 

She hates that phrase. _Hates_ it enough to keep a tally on how many times he uses it until it’s lost its meaning. She imagines showing him the chart to prove it, but in truth she’d lost count around the thirty mark after he’d said as much because she’d taken up running. It didn’t matter that the doctors had recommended exercise. Doing what her doctors advised was enough to be considered progress, even if doing everything she’d been asked to do hadn’t resulted in any real progress.

 

 _Emma._ She blinks, eyes wanting to close and stay closed, but something damp brushes against her shin. She blinks again, smiling down at the dog snuggling by her feet. “Emma?” Archie says, and she looks up with blurry eyes. “We lost you there for a minute.”

 

“Oh-” another weak smile, “sorry,” she mutters, glancing to the clock then sighs. She leans over the couch to scratch Pongo behind his ears then sits up straight.

 

“So…” Archie straightens on his chair with a smile that never seems to drop. “What has changed?” he asks, as if anything really had changed. _Nothing_ she wants to say, _except I’m tired._

 

Her eyes flicker to the clock again, then she sighs; she had asked for this extra session, and there had been a reason. A very good reason that seems less important with every second she sits here. The couch squeaks too much, and the room is too hot, and there’s too much missing inside her mind for Emma to be able to answer that. 

 

“Would you like to tell me what prompted you to schedule an extra session?” he asks, his red hair flattened yet stuck up at the same time. Emma concentrates on that instead of answering right away.

 

“Yeah. I erm…I’ve been feeling a little more anxious.” The thought alone of going to sleep fills her with dread from the moment she wakes in the morning covered in sweat.

 

She doesn’t continue, and easily predicts the follow up question, “How so?”

 

It gives Emma enough time to figure out an appropriate answer. One that won’t see her carted straight down to the psychiatric ward. “I’ve been-” she takes a breath and looks down at her bare knees. “I’ve been having these dreams.” _Of castles, magic, the woman who breathes fire into her name._ “They’re vivid. They feel real, like memories almost,” she whispers, raising her eyes with a questioning gaze.

 

If they were memories she would be inclined to sleep day and night until they made sense. Two nights ago, she’d dreamt she threw a sword at a dragon, but the night before she had been in New York, in an apartment she googled that morning. She promptly called Archie afterwards.

 

“Okay,” he says, head nodding along to the stretched-out word. “It’s very normal to cling onto anything that could pose answers.” Emma nods, feeling a sinking in her gut. “Perhaps there’s some truth to these dreams, but-” he smiles apologetically, “they’re most likely just dreams, Emma.”

 

“Yeah.” She runs her fingers through her tattered hair. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Except she can still feel the tingle of true love’s kiss against her lips. “The doctors say I may never recover my memories. But I want to remember…”

 

“I understand, Emma.” She doubts it, but his face is sincere enough for her to offer a tiny smile. “Humour me. Tell me about them.”

 

Emma swallows thickly, partly wanting to keep these dreams close to her chest. No matter how much trouble they cause, they are _hers_ and she doesn’t have anything that belongs to her right now.

 

“There’s this… this boy. It’s as if he’s trying to convince me it’s real.” It _feels_ real, but, “Then I wake up and they’re crazy.” She couldn’t remember his face, either, only gut feelings and flashes of images. He nods, more so at the upturn of her lips. Emma has barely smiled passed forced ones in the last few weeks. “But then there’s dragons, and magic, and castles, and…”

 

“And?”

 

How can she explain about the woman? The one with the bewitching brown eyes, beautiful and haunting. Those eyes are the only thing she remembers upon waking, along with a feeling of… “And people who are trapped. I feel like I need to remember. I need to save them.”

 

The frown on his face deepens. “I know the dreams can’t be real-” she chuckles awkwardly, “but they make me anxious. It’s probably tied into something else, but I’m, what do you call it? Fixating.” The line makes him smile, lean back, and nod. It works.

 

“You are making progress, Emma.” She flinches. “No matter what you believe.” She believes in the dreams, but there’s so much she doesn’t know for her to make any real assumptions. “Perhaps we need to find the root cause. Besides the memories, has anything else been bothering you lately?”

 

Emma’s mouth opens and closes. She shakes her head at the answer she was about to give. “I’m a little bored being at home all day. Maybe there’s something I could do with my time?”

 

Archie takes a moment to think. “How do you feel about children? I know one of the local teachers wants to hire an assistant for a few mornings a week.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma nods enthusiastically, because that would be _perfect_. “That sounds great.”

 

“Great. I’ll give you Miss Blanchard’s number, and you can give her a call.”

 

Emma slouches and blows out a breath. Mary Margaret had been the first person she saw when she woke from the coma, and although panic raced through her veins, the woman continued replacing the flowers and chatting to her until the panic subsided and she relaxed against the bed. Unfortunately, they’d had little contact since. “Thank you, I’d like that.”

 

“Great. You’re doing great, Emma.” He clasps his hands together with a bright smile. “I’ll see you Thursday?” he asks, and Emma’s nods enthusiastically, more optimistic than she has been in months.

 

* * *

 

Usually, Emma exits the office with a slump in her shoulders, but today there’s a soft smile and a slight spring to her step. She pulls the little strip of paper from her pocket and looks over the number again, impatient to give the number a call. She glances at the clear road then crosses. A foot lands on the sidewalk as the tell-tale sign of clipping heels increase in volume.

 

They stop mere inches away from Emma followed by a huffed, “Miss Swan,” that has Emma shoving the paper in her pocket and reluctantly turning around even if she’s so close to Granny’s she can practically smell the grilled cheese. Those dark eyes smoulder into her flushed face. “Are you incapable of following the law?” she asks in an obnoxiously high voice. The fitted suit crinkles around her biceps as the mayor crosses her arms with raised brows.

 

Emma gawks, mouth becoming moist. Any response gets lost in her excessive swallowing. That is until the satisfied smirk pushes on those red painted lips. “The what?”

 

“The law, dear.” Regina steps closer until Emma can feel the heat radiating off the mayor’s body. Emma lifts her eyes and keeps them locked. “You do understand how a button and a white man work, don’t you? Or do you need to return to preschool?”

 

“Seriously?” Emma cocks a brow, no longer afraid of what might happen if she says or does the wrong thing. _Again._ “You’re mad because I walked across the road?”

 

“Mad?” Emma’s eyes flicker to those red lips and the obnoxious smirk she wants to wipe from her face. “No dear-” she smiles widely, a single finger running along Emma’s jaw line, “but as mayor I expect proper law and order to be upheld.”

 

Emma’s heart accelerates at the touch. She licks her lips, wondering when she’ll stop feeling so frightened around the woman. Regina’s alibi on the night of the accident had been collaborated with the sheriff; there’s no longer any reason to fear her. Yet, her heart flutters wildly when Regina lowers her hand but doesn’t step away. “So, what?” she asks, and there’s a slight squeak to her voice she swallows down. “Are you going to call my fiancé?”

 

The mayor tugs on her blazer, the grin spreading in victory, “I have the authority to issue you a fine myself.”

 

Emma shakes her head and flaps her arms in the air, letting them slap against her legs. “For crossing the freaking road?” The mayor slowly clasps her hands in front of her middle and tips her chin forwards with a smug smile. “You’re out of your mind, lady.”

 

The chuckle is infuriating. The mayor cocks a brow before spinning on her heel. “Please follow me to my office,” she throws over her shoulder.

 

Emma sighs deeply and stomps her feet down the path. “You are aware I had an accident, right? I don’t have any memories. You can’t fine me for that.”

 

 

“Oh, I’m aware,” she says, as Emma trails by her side, “especially since I was carted back to the sheriff’s station to go over my statement.” 

 

“You threatened to take me out!”

 

“You almost ran into my car with that yellow death trap of yours.” Emma stomps a little harder down the path not wanting to admit she couldn’t remember how to drive.

 

Regina’s eyes shine in victory, and that smile, _gods_ it makes Emma’s stomach tight and she wants to… do something about it. Emma dutifully ignores her stupid face all the way to the mayoral office. All she wants is a grilled cheese for making it through yet another therapy session, not to be carted off by the woman who single-handedly invented holding a grudge. 

 

“Please take a seat,” she says once inside, and Emma can’t help herself but to plonk down on the chair and spread out over it.

 

Regina’s eye twitches, and she presses her palms against her desk, leaning over it until the exposed cleavage is directly in Emma’s line of sight. Her throat bobs, and she pulls her eyes away. “Are you also incapable of properly sitting on a chair?”

 

Emma cocks a brow in challenge, “Is that against the law, too?”

 

Regina’s lips tighten, and she straightens up with an eye roll. “Manners are clearly lost on you, too,” she mutters, rummaging through her desk. The form is slapped in front of her. “Fill this out, please,” then a pen is pressed on top of it. “I presume your handwriting is eligible?” She huffs and sits down on the chair then begins to scribble over a document.

 

Emma shrugs, “It will be _now_.” Her teeth dig into her lip as she looks down at the form. “I thought you might have given me a pack of crayons. That’s all.” Regina’s pencil snaps against the desk and Emma chuckles until she reads further down. “Sixty dollars!”

 

“Problem?” Regina leans back in the chair, one leg flung over the other, hands clasped over her middle.

 

Emma lifts her head and says quietly, “It’s not like I have a job right now.”

 

“Your laziness is hardly my concern.”

 

The fire beneath her skin withers and she lowers her eyes to the form. “Do you not have an ounce of sympathy?” she asks, because It’s all fun and games until she aches. “The doctors haven’t cleared me to work.”

 

“Shame. Fill out the form. You have until next week to pay the fine.”

 

Emma sighs, “I can read,” and begins to write over it.

 

“I wasn’t sure.”

 

She snorts, lifting her gaze. Regina’s eyes twinkle with mischief and a lump grows in her throat. She swallows it and returns to filling out the form. The mayor might be infuriating, but it sends a spark through Emma’s body and it threatens to grow into a flame. She doesn’t know when she last felt so alive.

 

She did wonder if they’d hated each other before, but it’s difficult to have any sort of conversation with this woman that boarded on civil. It’s easier to keep…pretending. “I’m done.” Emma hands over the form and Regina grabs it, brushing the sides of their fingers together. Emma’s lips part and for half a second Regina smiles softly.

 

She must have imagined it because Regina places the form on a pile then glares with hard eyes. “Is there a reason you’re still here?”

 

She swallows hard and doesn’t make eye contact. “I’ll see you with that fine.” Then she barges out of the office. Her stomach rumbles and she heads straight for Granny’s for that grilled cheese _and_ a bear claw. After that interaction, it’s the least she deserves.

 

* * *

 

For the rest of the afternoon Emma cleans up the house then slumps on the couch to watch trashy television. She’d called Mary Margaret and left a voicemail regarding the open position, so when she returns the call Emma jumped to the phone and curled up in the corner of the couch. “I’m looking forward to it,” she says, hand clutching her ankle.

 

“Would you like to join us tomorrow morning to have a chat and say hello to the children?” Mary Margaret asks, “they’re always excited when we have someone new in.”

 

Emma worries her lip and glances around the house. The walls are a shadowy blue, and each piece of furniture appears more for show than use. It’s _gloomy,_ and the absence of photos and personal items reminds Emma of a showroom. She’d walked around like a ghost at first, afraid to touch anything in case it turned to dust, but she has been trying desperately to remember the person she was when she decorated it.

 

“Yeah,” because there’s only so much trying she can do. “I’d love to visit tomorrow.”

 

There’s the faint sound of a door opening then closing. “Visit where?” the voice asks from outside the room, because he couldn’t have walked in and offered a simple hello.

 

When Killian swaggers in, all leather and no tact, she clings onto the phone a little tighter and gestures with her eyebrows. He raises his palms before spinning and walking out of the room. “Sorry,” she says, loosening her grip, “I haven’t had a chance to tell my fiancé yet.”

 

“That’s no problem, Emma,” the cheerful woman says. Emma lets out a long breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

Emma nods, before stuttering out a reply and saying her goodbyes. Killian is hanging by the door when she places the phone onto the coffee table. He stands there until she pushes from the couch on a sigh, not stopping until her lips briefly press against his. “Had a good day?” she asks, voice in its usual flat tone as she rests a hand on his chest.

 

“Much better now I’m home.” He tips his head down to press his lips to Emma’s. Her eyes close automatically, and the amplified moan pushes from her throat like she’d trained herself to do it. Emma pulls away quickly with a weak smile. “So, are you going to tell me who was on the phone?”

 

“Oh-” she shrugs and moves away, plonking back down on the couch. “Archie thought it’d be a good idea to do something with my time, try to get back to normal.” She manages to hold back a grimace; she’s getting good at this.

 

“Doesn’t answer my question, love.” He sits beside her, placing a possessive hand on her thigh.

 

“Right.” She smiles sheepishly, a little blush crawling up her neck. “It was Miss Blanchard. I’m going to help her at the school a couple mornings a week.” The thought alone makes her want to beam until she’s emitting happiness rays, but her light is squashed when his jaw clenches.

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…” the fingers around her leg grip tightly, “that’s not a good idea, Swan.”

 

“Why?” she asks, voice high pitched and croaky. She shuffles a little, eyes flickering to the offending hand.

 

“You’re not interested in working at the school.” The certainty has Emma sitting up straight and paying attention. Like she has for months, with no effect on her memories. She slumps back down and sighs. “I want my Emma back,” and this time she slouches in on herself, giving one tight nod in response. “You must know I want you to recover?”

 

Emma’s instincts tell her otherwise, but instincts mean nothing without reasons to back them up. “I know,” she says again and smiles. It’s weak and falls, but she tries, and he seems to like when she fits into her past mould. “It’s only for a few hours a week.”

 

His jaw clenches impossibly tighter. “It’s not you, Swan,” and that tone feels like nails scratching along her skin.

 

Except she can’t believe she was the sort of woman who had given up work to prepare for their family. “But I’m bored. Whatever plans we had…” she shakes her head, steering course, “I can’t think about having kids until I’m more me,” she whispers, a plea, “and I need to do _something_ to make that happen.”

 

“Then you can return to the station.” He taps her thigh. “You were a great assistant.”

 

Emma shakes her head, tension building within her chest when her fist hits the couch. “No!” Her eyes startle, but she’d done everything he’d asked for months and still no memories had returned.

 

“Swan,” his teeth grit, a warning in his tone, “I can’t trust that you’ll be safe.”

 

“I can take care of myself.”

 

“I know about your run-in with the Mayor. And we’ve already had one incident with her-” he throws an overbearing arm around her shoulder and she breathes through it until her body relaxes. “And _I’m_ going to have to pay for that.”

 

The guilt flares enough that when he tugs on her side, she shuffles herself accordingly until her cheek is pressed against his chest, but it’s uncomfortable no matter how much she tries to find the right position. “What if I don’t want to return to the station?”

 

His chest rises then deflates against her cheek. “I think it’s a mistake,” he says and chuckles, “but you’ve never been one to listen to me much before. Why should that change now?” 

 

She nods again, a little smirk playing on her lips. “It’s not going to,” she teases, and his over exaggerated eye roll has her relaxing a little more.

 

It doesn’t stop her from waking up in a cold sweat that night, panting and clutching onto her chest. She turns in bed, and _of course_ he’s obliviously snoring next to her as she pants and struggles for breath. She creeps into the bathroom, throws water over her face then leans over the sink. Her eyes find herself in the mirror, glaring into her piercing green eyes like they would provide answers, “It’s just a dream.”

 

The images remain; of Killian and a sword fight, and _when I jab you with my sword you’ll feel it_ and her stomach curdles and eyes squeeze tight to release her from answers she doesn’t want.

 

They’re only dreams, but when she returns to bed, she shuffles to the edge of it to maintain a safe distance from her fiancé for the reminder of the night.

 

* * *

 

“The children will love you,” Mary Margaret says, and the praise warms her all the way down to her toes. The woman with the pixie haircut is smiling and hasn’t stopped since she’d greeted her, but when she frowns Emma’s stomach lurches and she scrambles in her mind to make that look disappear. “But I have a few more questions that are a little personal in nature.”

 

That look burns into her and she smiles tightly, already feeling as if she is about to disappoint. Her usual instinct is to cower away and lie, to become defensive. It’s hard to answer personal questions when she has no answers, but already she wants to impress her, and when that look softens with the tip of her head she valiantly leans an elbow against the small kitchen counter in the staff room and meets the woman’s warm eyes. “Ask me anything.”

 

Mary Margaret nods with a soft smile, “How are you coping without your memories? Is it affecting your day to day at all? Or could it affect the children?”

 

“Depends what you mean by coping,” Emma mutters, then almost splutters out her coffee. Her cheeks burn, but a comforting hand finds her arm and squeezes. “I can remember most things, just not my life,” she says quickly. “It shouldn’t be a problem with the kids.”

 

Mary Margaret rubs her arm. “That’s good, Emma. I’m glad to hear that. But it sounds like some things aren’t going so well?” The rise in her voice has Emma chuckling nervously. She’s uncertain why she would share such a personal truth with someone she hardly knows, but that warmth draws her in and makes her believe she’s safe enough to confess the deepest of secrets, and she supposes it makes sense, because she’d visited Emma almost every day for the duration of her coma. It could be why she feels so familiar.

 

Emma places her coffee mug on the side then takes a deep breath, “Yeah, I’m not sure how to even answer that.” She twists to rest her elbows on the side, fingers fiddling with her eyes glued to them. “It’s just…there’s all these things that I’m supposed to like or want, but it doesn’t feel like me. It doesn’t make sense.”

 

And _that_ is the most honest she has been; if she says as much to Killian he’ll usually say something to imply this version of her is stunted, and Archie will tell her there’s a root cause. Not Mary Margaret, she continues to look at her softly and places a gentle hand on her arm. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” she says, “if I couldn’t remember my husband…”

 

This time the honest thoughts stay buried.

 

More so when she says, “Love always finds a way,” with a wistful smile. “If you fell in love once, I’m sure you can do it again.”

 

 _What if I don’t want to_ is her first thought, but then the ring taps against the counter top, “Yeah. Maybe.”

 

“If things are supposed to work out, you’ll find a way.” The sunshine and happiness radiating of this woman makes it easy to agree with a quick nod even if her eyes are dull from trying to force feelings that are reluctant to return.

 

“Were we friends before?” Emma asks her.

 

“Oh…erm-” her forehead crinkles, and she laughs all of a sudden. “Perhaps the memory issue is infectious. I don’t recall, but that doesn’t mean we can’t start now.”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

“Me too.” She downs the rest of her coffee and places both mugs in the sink. “Why don’t we head to the classroom? It’s almost time for the children to arrive.”

 

* * *

 

“Say goodbye to Miss Swan,” Mary Margaret says.

 

The children wave enthusiastically, and an echo of _byeee_ is her parting gift as she walks out of the classroom. “Remember that you can only pull funny faces when Miss Blanchard isn’t looking,” she jokes, throwing a wink at the small woman, and grinning at the laughs and tongues that are poked out and cheeks that are pulled.

 

She’s grinning like an idiot. The children had been a nuisance, but adorable and had adored having her around, and she gets to return twice a week. She walks from the building and down the road, footsteps slowing and good mood slowly vanishing. She’s already regretting the promise to go and see him, her _fiancé_.

 

The moment she steps inside the sheriff’s station his hands find her hips and they seem to just…stay there. She hardly hears what he’s saying to her, and perhaps if her memories were filled in the way he seems to want to them be then she would be all over him, too, except they’re not, and so she squirms away, “Killian,” she complains, and it almost sounds like a warning.

 

He grabs onto her hips and spins her, planting a kiss as if she hadn’t spoken at all. When a hand falls to his chest this time it’s to shove on it. There’s an awkward chuckle that’s obviously forced when she mumbles, “We have company.”

 

“Alright love,” he says, hand sliding down her back and to the dip in her ass. “You never cared before.”

 

Her teeth grit, and she wills herself not to squirm again. Why was before more important than what she wants _now?_

 

“You can’t help love,” David says, shuffling some papers as he clears his throat. It’s the most obvious rouse and Emma wants to say ‘I told you so’ but Killian’s arms have loosened whilst his attention is elsewhere. She paces away from the main office and into the open area. “How are you doing, Emma?” he asks with a genuine concern that makes Emma want to cry.

 

“Okay…” Perhaps she’s not, but she smiles at him and would say more if Killian wasn’t hovering by her side. “Did erm, Mary Margaret tell you I’m volunteering at the school?”

 

“She did, and she’s delighted to have you on board.”

 

“Me too,” she says, bouncing on her heels. “Your wife has been nothing but lovely to me.”

 

David’s smile is warm and reassuring, and Emma wants to drown herself in it. “I think she feels connected to you after all those hospital visits.”

 

“Yeah, I never did get a chance to thank you both for-”

 

He waves her off, “No need. She’s happy that she could help.”

 

Emma nods curtly as Killian slips an arm around her waist. “Hmm and maybe being around those kids will remind you how much you wanted one.” She stiffens, but she successfully hides it by reaching up to peck his lips.

 

“You know I’m not ready for that.” Emma wiggles out of his embrace and ducks her head to avoid David’s gaze. “Could I have that money?”

 

Killian grabs the envelope, and hands it over. “Perhaps stay clear of the Mayor, love, or we’ll go bankrupt.”

 

David hums, “She’s constantly causing the teachers problems, especially Mary Margaret.” Killian wipes down his smirk, but Emma simply frowns, thinking _duh?_ Have they met the mayor? She would cause problems if she decided that someone was breathing wrong.

 

Killian uses it to give her a smug look with, “See?” but she ignores it and snatches the envelope. She has no intention of listening to them, not when she has an uptight mayor to antagonise.

 

* * *

 

Emma waves off the assistant and barges into the mayor’s office without knocking. Regina looks up from her desk with a twinkle in her eyes. “Were you raised in a barn?”

 

Emma stops and swallows twice before a croaky sound rumbles in her throat. “I…” her mouth hangs open, any righteous anger abruptly gone.

 

Regina lets it dangle in the air with a smug smirk. Standing, she reveals a tight blue dress as she walks around the desk before leaning on it. “Before this goes any further, let’s get one thing straight, shall we, Miss Swan?” Her arms cross and Emma’s still contemplating the childhood she knows nothing about. “I run this town and you might not have gotten the memo. Or have conveniently forgotten,” she adds, waving her hand in Emma’s general direction, “but go up against me and you _will_ remember exactly who it is that you’re dealing with. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

 

Regina smiles when Emma hasn’t moved. “Have I made myself clear?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes, “This is why I thought you tried to murder me.” After the entire debacle and the way Regina had been _furious_ that Emma had considered her capable of such an act, the threats don’t seem to hold as much weight. _As much,_ because her palms are sweaty, and she has no doubt Regina has other ways to make Emma’s life miserable.

 

So, it’s unexpected when Regina chuckles, and not entirely strange that Emma’s heart rate accelerates. Emma dutifully clears her throat and doesn’t contemplate the affect it has on her, not realising she’s twiddling with her engagement ring until Regina’s eyes flicker to it. “And I thought you would be thrilled to extort money out of me,” Emma says, steadying her hands before passing the envelope to the mayor. Regina snatches it, runs her finger beneath the sealed part then has the audacity to count out the entire three twenty-dollar bills.

 

“You jay walk. You pay the fine.” She places the envelope onto the desk with a sly grin and then directs her gaze firmly Emma’s way. Dark eyes run the length of Emma’s bare legs, her dress, and pause momentarily on the cleavage. Regina licks her lips then hums, “Was there another crime you wanted to confess to?” before lifting her eyes to meet Emma’s.

 

“Erm…” she rubs the back of her neck, “No?” and why she sounds unsure crawls beneath her skin. Regina doesn’t comment, but perhaps she knows something that Emma doesn’t. The thought sends her spiralling into a funk until she’s shuffling from foot to foot, “Why?”

 

“You’re still standing there, dear.”

 

  _Oh._ “Right.” Emma rocks on her heels, the flowery dress wafting around her knees and suddenly she hates everything about it. “Is that done then?” Regina directs a pointed stare her way, clearly annoyed by her presence as if she hadn’t been the cause of this to begin with. Emma feels her gut clench harder and she rolls her eyes. “Can I get a copy of the form or…something?”

 

Regina huffs, but Emma had done a little reading and she wouldn’t put it past Regina to issue her with another fine claiming the first had never been paid. On a tight nod Regina grabs the form then walks right past her and out of the room. “Wait here.”

 

Emma swivels her head and glances around the office. In search of what, she doesn’t know, but when all she finds is a desk, a table, some random pictures and a couch, she sits herself down on it, not at all surprised when Regina returns with an icy glare, “Make yourself at home, dear.” Emma finds herself fascinated by the pieces of paper Regina staples together then sourly disappointed when they’re handed over. “Now we’re done.”

 

Emma nods, taking the papers, and although she’s out of reasons to stay, the words, “Want to grab lunch?” are out before she can tell where they came from; this office does not seem strange and uncomfortable _like her own house does_. There’s no expectations here, but Regina predictably scoffs and Emma shakes her head with her palms up. “Sorry, I didn’t…did you always hate me?”

 

Emma’s eyes widen and stare intently, desperate for an answer, for something _real._

 

Regina frowns, “erm-” then shakes her head, “the moment you stepped foot into _my_ town in that hideous leather jacket you took it upon yourself to challenge me at every turn.” Regina moves closer as Emma stands, posture straight and confident. “It was easy to hate you,” she sneers, eyes squinting and smirk vicious.

 

“Why would…”

 

“Out!” Her arm stretches to the side, and _that_ stings. Regina holds answers to questions she hasn’t thought of, and if she would let her talk to her without hostility for two minutes then maybe Emma could put a few more pieces together.

 

“Fine. Thanks for all the help,” she says dryly, and makes her way out of the room.

 

She’s lost in thought when she walks through Storybrooke and somehow finds herself back at the Sheriff’s station. She’s staring at the entrance when a hand presses to her lower back. Her fingers wrap around the wrist, and as her body spins, she twists the wrist with a grunt.

 

Killian winces, his arm twisted at the shoulder. “Nice to see you, too,” he says through gritted teeth. Emma releases him with startled eyes, pacing a few steps backwards. He shakes his wrist out then cocks a brow, “If I knew you liked it rough, Swan,” and grabs onto her hips.

 

She smiles tightly up at him, muttering, “I’m sorry,” before pushing onto her tip-toes to offer him a kiss. It sends a shiver from her lips and through her body. “I bought this?” she asks, tugging at the dress.

 

He grins at her and leers with his eyes. “You look wonderful, love. Like a proper lady.” Emma frowns, but lets it drop.

 

“Thanks,” she mutters, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Did you want lunch?” she asks, stomach still grumbling, hoping to have some company.

 

“I already ate, love.”

 

“Oh, okay,” and she shouldn’t be too disappointed, but it would have been nice if someone wanted to be with her.

 

On her way to Granny’s she spots the mayor walking down the street with her chin tipped up, loud heels clipping against the path, long black coat flowing behind her back, heading in the same direction as her.

 

_Fucking perfect._

 

Emma skids on the floor in Granny’s and catches Ruby’s eye. “Please…please…please,” she begs, arms rested on the counter and the woman with a red stripe in her hair and tight clothing walks over with a sparkle in her eyes.

 

“Only because Granny isn’t here to skin me alive.”

 

“Thank you!” Emma could kiss her. “And could I get a chicken sandwich and a coffee please?” not that she’s all that bothered with her grumbling stomach, not when the plan she’d formed weeks ago is finally being put into action. Ruby had scoffed at her and said it would only cause trouble when all Emma had heard was _fun_.

 

Emma had agreed to drop it, although that was before Regina had threatened her yet again and fined her for crossing the damn road.

 

Emma’s huddled in the corner of a booth with the coffee mug between her palms when the door finally jiggles open. Regina walks in and goes straight to the stool she had claimed. She purses her lips, one hand on her hip. “What is this?” she demands, other hand pressed against the counter. “Where the hell is my seat?”

 

Emma almost chokes on her coffee, failing to keep her eyes lowered. She’s close to spitting it out when Ruby comes over and shrugs, “I don’t know what you mean,” and Regina’s lips are tight, face reddening with crinkles covering her forehead. Emma wouldn’t be surprised if it exploded.

 

“My. Chair.” She points to it and somehow Ruby manages to keep a straight face. “It doesn’t have a seat. Unless you're too stupid to understand that.”

 

Ruby grips the edge of the counter then leans over it. “Oh,” she says, lengthening the syllable, “it broke.” She’s smiling when she stands back up. “Can I take your order?”

 

Regina’s eye narrow. “How exactly can a seat break?” Her body leans forwards, threatening, and Emma digs her teeth into her lower lip, willing herself to keep her eyes from running over the mayor and her tight posture. It’s too tempting not to look, especially when she looks ready to combust.

 

“I don’t know,” Ruby says, “you’re the only one who sits on it.”

 

“This establishment is joke.” Regina turns away, gaze falling on Emma who is seated in the back booth. Dark eyes narrow, and Emma lowers hers and blows over her coffee. There’s an exaggerated sway in her hips as she walks over then presses both palms to the table. “I assume this is your doing?” she accuses, and it takes Emma a good ten seconds of swallowing down her laugh until she can raise her eyes.

 

“Me? What? No.” Dammit, she grins, and when those eyes squint she snorts. “I don’t know how that happened,” but it served her right for being pressed over the child who had sat on it a few weeks ago.

 

She stands and smirks, “Some things clearly haven’t changed.” Something sinister swirls in her eyes, and she directs it right at Emma. “I warned you not to go up against me, but if it’s a war you want,” she purrs, eyes sparkling with fury. Emma bites down harder on the lip between her teeth. Regina narrows her eyes, “Then a war you’ll get.”

 

Emma swallows down the laugh. Mayors can be so overdramatic, or perhaps that’s just Regina. Her gaze remains on those retreating hips just to catch a final glimpse of the woman when she’s infuriated. Ruby tsks then places the sandwich on the table. “T-r-o-u-b-l-e,” she spells out, “you’ve done it now,” but Emma just shrugs it off. _Bring it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writers and artists spent months creating the fics and art you enjoy - it would mean the world to them if you commented to tell them what you liked! The SQSupernova team is also sponsoring a contest for commenters, and you can find out more [here](http://sqsupernova.tumblr.com/post/177527168129/the-swan-queen-supernova-comments-contest-returns).


	2. Chapter 2

_72 days into the curse._

 

The bell rings throughout the hallways and a heard of students tumbles from their classrooms. Emma barges through them, whistling through the mindless chatter then walks into the staff room. A few of the teachers trail in behind, grabbing their lunches and either head back to their desks or huddle around the two couches in the corner.

 

Emma bounces on her heels, twiddling her fingers and debates going over. She doesn’t know them, and they’ve all said good morning and flashed smiles in the hallway, but that isn’t an invitation. The door opens and closes, and she sighs as Mary Margaret flashes her a smile. “How was your morning?” she asks, walking over to the kitchen counter with Emma on her heel.

 

“Good,” she says, surprised that she’d enjoyed being with the older children as much as she enjoys acting childlike with the younger ones. Another assistant had called in sick and Emma had been more than happy to cover for her. “I remember math-” and her face lights up, and perhaps it’s not overly important, but it feels huge and the bright smile Mary Margaret offers only validates her enthusiasm.

 

“That’s wonderful news.” She spours two cups of coffee. “As long as I don’t lose you,” she mutters with a wink, leaning against the counter with a mug between her palms.

 

Emma chuckles, “No, of course not,” and shoves her hands against her sides as if the stripy shirt had pockets. She crosses them instead, tugging the sleeves over her hands. 

 

“Let us hope Ashley gets well soon so I can have my assistant back.”

 

Emma can only beam, pulling her lunch from the fridge and grabs the coffee. She slides onto the stool around the small circular table, only getting half way through her first bite of the sandwich when she flicks her eyes over to the small woman and her raised eyebrows. “What?” she asks, quickly chewing then swallows.

 

“You brought lunch?”

 

Emma frowns, “yeah?” and slowly lowers the sandwich, preparing herself for disappointment.

 

“Are the doctors ok with this?” Mary Margaret asks.

 

It’s concern for her wellbeing, and that’s so unexpected that she sighs and shrugs a shoulder, “I think so,” then takes a huge bite into the bread. The back of her palm covers her mouth, “I saw Dr. Whale a few days ago. He said it was fine then, but he’s sort of creepy and I’d rather not see him more than I have to.”

 

Mary Margaret shakes her head with a chuckle. “He can be charming,” she says, sitting next to Emma and pulls out an apple with a blush growing up her cheeks.

 

“You’re married with a kid!” Emma says, reminded of the first time she’d seen them together, all hearty-eyed and smiles, and their kid had been waddling over the grass after the birds. The pair had been snuggled on a blanket, laughing softly at their child as Emma had watched on the outside, turning away with glassy eyes.

 

“I wasn’t _always_ married.”

 

She chuckles softly, “He’s not my type.” Emma wonders what her type is, or if she has one. Well, she knows what or _who_ her type _isn’t_ , especially after these past two weeks. Granny’s is having a crisis, a bear claws crisis, and Emma just knows that the mayor is behind it.

 

“If your doctors are okay with you volunteering for longer hours, I am a person short for the school committee if you’d be interested?” Emma pushes her lips together, nodding before she knows the details. “There will be a few meetings about the school dance that’s coming up, and for a few ideas on fundraising for the school. Then you’ll be expected to help out for the events themselves.”

 

Emma bites her bottom lip, “I might have to run it by Killian.” She flinches at Mary Margaret’s frown. “It’s just, since my accident…” she trails off, drumming her fingers against the table. “But I’d like that,” because it would get her out of the house more, and the dreams turn to white noise when she leaves that place.

 

She takes a sip of the coffee, maintaining eye contact, “How are things working out between you two?”

 

“We, erm…had a date night,” she says, then takes another bite of her food. It gives her a moment to think over it and choose her words carefully, that is until she receives an encouraging smile and Mary Margaret’s gaze is firmly on her as if she’s the most interesting thing in the school.

 

She recounts the details of the restaurant and what was an okay evening, until, “Some guy knocked our table and the drinks spilled. I thought everything was fine, it was just an accident, you know? But before we left I went to the bathroom then I found Killian outside with grazed knuckles.”

 

“I’ve always known Killian to be the perfect gentlemen,” she says, fingers lightly coming up to rest on her chin. She chuckles lightly and smiles at Emma. “Did you talk to him about it?”

 

“I tried, but…” her face scrunches, and she shrugs instead of talking about the darkness she swore she saw swirling in his eyes. “How do you feel around David?” she asks, furrowing her brow and looking intently at the woman.

 

“Oh, well-” she frowns first which morphs into a dazzling smile, “I simply know he’s the one I’m meant to be with. He’s the person I want to tell everything to, and even when he’s driving me insane there’s never a moment of doubt that I love him.” Mary Margaret reaches over to place a soft hand on her own. The warmth spreads from her palm and throughout her body until the uncertainty evaporates into the air. “Love always finds a way.”

 

“You really believe that?”

 

“I believe that if you find someone who makes everything a little better then you hold onto them. If it’s meant to be, then it’ll work out.” Her hand squeezes a little tighter as the bell begins to ring. “These lunch breaks aren’t long enough,” she exclaims. “How about we grab coffee sometime? Or you’re more than welcome to come to the loft for dinner. Neal would love you.”

 

“Yeah. Thank you. I’d like that,” she says, pushing away her uncertainty and holding onto the hope Mary Margaret always seems to bring out in her.

 

* * *

 

It starts off as an echo and escalates to a furious stampede of obnoxious clips. The traitorous smirk does not go unnoticed by Mary Margaret who’s still giving Emma this quizzical look when the mayor bursts into the empty classroom. “What the hell is this?!” she demands, wafting a piece of paper in the air. It’s slammed onto the desk and the resounding slap from her palm causes Emma to flinch. Regina’s jaw clenches and the smirk grows into a full grin. “Do you find incompetent teachers amusing, Miss Swan?”

 

So, the woman might be insane, but it doesn’t make her any less amusing. Mary Margaret strains to smile where Emma smoothers hers down. “This is about the test,” she says and places a hand on Emma’s arm as if _she_ is the one who needs to be held back. “I can assure-”

 

“Assure me?” The vein in Regina’s forehead is on the verge of popping, and that’s nothing compared to the button that is always on that same edge. Emma spends a good quality of her day imagining what it would be like if one day it went _pop._ “My son. Does not. Fail.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes, “It’s one test.” Could this woman get anymore irrational?

 

“A test he wouldn’t have failed if his teachers knew how to teach.” It’s as if she knows Emma had been with that class a few days ago, but Mary Margaret stiffens, and the indignation pushes Emma to take a step forwards like a human shield.

 

Regina’s eyes squint, but she steps right into her personal space. Emma places her hands on either hip, daring her to step closer. Regina’s eyes flicker down before they lock with hers and harden. “Look, the kid’s great at everything else,” Emma says, and those hard eyes relax and flash with pride for a split second. “But he’s a little behind at math. It’s not a big deal.”

 

Perhaps civil isn’t the way to handle the Mayor, not when her arms cross and she lowers her nose as if glancing at vermin. “And when exactly did you become qualified to make such judgements?”

 

Hands clasp the back of her shoulders, “Emma is a valued member of the team.” Mary Margaret flashes Emma a smile that reassures her. “We can look into a tutor.”

 

Regina sighs, “Someone incompetent no doubt.”

 

“Didn’t you say you were good at math, Emma?” Mary Margaret squeezes her shoulders, and already Emma wants to protest but Regina glares so furiously it looks as if she’s trying to set Emma on fire.

 

“It would give me something to do with my time,” she says with a noncommittal shrug.

 

“So you can find a hobby whilst your fiancé pays the bills,” she says coolly. “My son isn’t a project.”

 

“I’m no one’s trophy wife.” Emma returns the fire, and it sends a spark through her veins. One she wants to hold onto until she’s alive day and night.

 

“If I am unable to trust you to cross the road correctly, how am I supposed to trust you with my son?” she snaps, and it cuts off Emma’s heartstrings and has it pushing into the pit of her stomach. Emma shakes her head and swallows. “Like I said,” she says, then spins on her heels as she swaggers her hips away.

 

Emma holds in the comeback and when Regina’s half way across the room Mary Margaret widens her eyes as if she’s one of her students. “Wait-” her feet are already moving, hand about to grab the mayor when it falls to her side. “Regina,” she says, voice softer and without the hard edges she uses to push those delicious buttons. “I can help.”

 

“You?” she spits sceptically.

 

“Yeah.” Emma nods quickly, aiming for at least borderline nice for the sake of the kid. “You’re right. I have all this free time and I’m pretty good at math.” 

 

Regina’s breath comes out quickly, but not enough for it to be considered a huff. “Fine,” she says. “Tomorrow evening. Five pm. One wrong move and you’ll be out of my house and this town quicker than you can say memory loss.” Her nose is an inch away from touching Emma’s, and her mouth goes dry. There’s a clear threat in there and Emma knows she should probably take it seriously but getting beneath Regina’s skin is quickly becoming the most fun she’s ever had.

 

She can’t nod, because their faces are too close. Instead she coughs out an, “ _okay,”_ and it leaves Regina satisfied.

 

Mary Margaret retreats behind her desk at the tail end of those clipping heels fading into the distance. “Remind me never to get on either of your bad sides,” she says, eyes wide and Emma still can’t get the feeling of hot breath off her lips. “I hope everything goes well with Henry.”

 

“Me too.” She bounces on her heels, because the mayor invited her over to the _freaking mansion_. “Are you heading out?”

 

“Oh, yeah.” She’s back to smiling and waves her hand. “Of course you can leave. You know you don’t have to stay for the full day?” Emma shrugs and smiles tightly. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, of course. But go…be with your fiancé. I’m sure you can work things out.”

 

“I’ll…see you tomorrow?” she asks, packing her things up slower than necessary.

 

“You’re not in tomorrow.”

 

“I could be.” Emma _wants_ to be, and perhaps she should be worried about not having a job that pays but working with Mary Margaret is the best part of her day. “It’s not like I have anything better to do,” she adds, and Mary Margaret gives her a warm smile that spreads to her chest.

 

* * *

 

“Perhaps we should go to the Rabbit Hole this weekend,” Emma says, placing the plate on the table in front of Killian. She leans over to peck his lips.

 

He leans back with a smug smirk, “I’m not going to complain, Swan,” and leers his eyes when she turns towards the kitchen counter. “Perhaps a few drinks will loosen you up.” She flinches, slowing her movements until she has the plate and there’s a smile plastered on her face.

 

She slides on the chair, “I thought it might be fun.” Her fork stabs into the pasta a little too hard. When Killian takes a bite and hums, she pushes that smile up harder. “Don’t get used to it, you’ll be fending for yourself tomorrow night.” She lowers her eyes, feeling the tiny smile wanting to replace the forced one. “I’m tutoring the mayor’s kid.”

 

His fork is carefully lowered with a slight clang against the plate. “I thought we agreed you’d stay clear from the mayor?”

 

“Well, I volunteered.” Her fingers clench around the fork. She isn’t about to tell him Mary Margaret had put her forwards. “I’m not going back on my word.” She ignores his gaze when she reaches for her wine glass and takes a sip.

 

“I let you have your little project with the school, but this…” his head shakes, “the mayor is bad news.”

 

Emma grits her teeth, slowly placing her glass down then leans her elbows on the table. “Since when do you get to decide what’s best for me?”

 

Killian sighs and has another bite of his meal. Emma follows suit and they eat in silence for a minute, until, “Since you don’t remember what’s best for you,” and Emma twitches, grabs her drink and brings it to her lips no matter how much her hand shakes. “You’re making things difficult, love.”

 

“Because I’m making decisions for myself?” she asks, shoving her pasta into her mouth in large quantities. She has let him guide her since returning from the hospital, but that has gotten her nowhere. “Is this what our relationship was like?”

 

He scoffs, “You used to listen to me,” then abruptly stands, leaving half of the meal behind. He paces as Emma eats, because she’s not about to let a good meal go to waste. “You’re not acting like the you who-”

 

“Who stays at home and does everything at your whim?” She dismisses him, grabs both plates then shoves them into the sink. “And I’m helping with the school committee,” she says, grabs her glass then goes to leave the kitchen.

 

After two steps, a hand wraps around her bicep, tugging her backwards. The muscles in her stomach quiver as she’s spun, and the instinctive reaction is to throw the perfectly good wine over his face. His head jerks backwards, eyes bulging, and his grip loosens enough for her to shrug her arm free.

 

Emma’s still and breathless, but when his eyes lift something dark swirls within them. She paces backwards, “I’m sorry,” she mutters, but when he rolls his eyes and grabs a dishcloth, rubbing it against his face, he reveals an easy smile that has Emma’s shoulders relax.

 

“That’s alright, love.” He tugs his damp shirt off to reveal a slight hairy chest then wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Perhaps you’ll just have to make it up to me.”

 

“Killian…” she takes a step backwards, stomach clenching forcefully. He doesn’t move closer, giving Emma the opportunity to look at his semi-naked body, but she’s unsure what she’s supposed to feel.

 

“We’re engaged, Swan-” he smirks devilishly. “You can’t say you’re not tempted?” She remains rooted like a deadweight, biting her lip and shrugs.

 

“How would you feel if you woke up tomorrow with no memories and some random guy tells you he’s your fiancé? You’d just fall into bed with him?”

 

“Is he dashingly handsome like me?” 

 

Despite everything she smirks and rolls her eyes, “you know what I mean.”

 

“It’s been over two months,” he says, and there’s a whine in there somewhere. She supposes he doesn’t push more than asking and being a little suggestive, and that comes under the heading of patience…she thinks. It’s not as if she has a lot to go on.

 

“I know,” she mutters, eyes flickering away from him. “I’m just not ready,” and she’s not entirely sure when that will change.

 

* * *

 

The mansion door swings open followed by a diplomatic, “Hello, dear,” before Regina steps to the side.

 

“Hi.” Emma offers a tight smile whilst her heart drums so hard she can feel the pulse in her wrist. “Where do you want me?”

 

Regina spins on her heel, muttering, “Not here,” before walking up the few steps. Emma rolls her eyes and follows all the way to the dining room where a bunch of stationary had been set up. “Considering you are here. I hope you know what you are doing, Miss Swan.”

 

The usual bite is missing, but there’s enough that Emma quickly nods, “Yeah, don’t worry. I got this. Henry will pass the make-up test once we’re finished.”

 

Regina squints her eyes, but then nods, seemingly satisfied. Those heels make their tell-tale clipping sound out of the dining room, because apparently, she wears heels within her own home, and a full face of make-up, and a long skirt and blouse with a few buttons undone. The only thing she seems to have discarded of is her blazer. Emma wants to roll her eyes and tell her that she doesn’t need to dress to impeccable standards every second of the day. 

 

They increase in volume again, and this time Henry is trailing behind. Emma’s eyes light up, “Hey, kid,” and she smiles warmly at him.

 

“Hi, Miss Swan.”

 

Emma flinches. “It’s Emma.”

 

“Cool-” he shrugs, his lanky arms flapping around.

 

Regina turns to her son, eyes softening. With one hand coming to rest on his arm she gives him a gently squeeze. “Now, don’t get frustrated and listen to what Miss Swan tells you,” she says in a soothing tone. “You’ll catch up in no time.”

 

He smiles bashfully, “Thanks, mom.”

 

“Would you like a hot chocolate for when you’re finished?” He might be a teenager, but he grins widely. Emma almost asks if she could have one too, but already she can see the raised brow and annoyed huff she would receive as a response, so she bites her lower lip instead. “I take that as a yes?” she asks, tipping her head to the side with a soft smile.

 

“Yeah, thanks mom.” Regina presses a kiss to his forehead, and he squirms a little, glancing in Emma’s direction. The redness grows on his cheeks when their eyes briefly meet. He groans a little, but Regina taps his cheek then exits the room with a chuckle. “She erm…forgets I’m not five anymore,” he mutters, looking at anywhere but Emma.

 

“She’s your mom,” Emma says, pulling a chair out and plonking down. “I think she’ll be giving you kisses way into adulthood.” A gut feeling tells her it’s true. “Shall we get started?” she asks, unable to squash the images of Regina with gentle eyes and a soft smile.

 

* * *

 

Today is a day of utter boredom. No school, no tutoring, just herself, the notebooks and her empty thoughts. It could easily lead her down a path of self-sabotage, so she decides to rummage through the house. With one closet left to go she’s surprised to find a soft blanket hidden behind a stack of boxes. Her fingers trail over the lettering.

 

“ _Emma,_ ” she whispers.

 

Her breath shudders, and she holds the blanket to her chest and makes her way down the stairs. Killian had told her she didn’t have any family, but who designs a blanket for their child only to abandon them later? With the laptop on her thighs she searches through the internet, and when the searches come up blank her mind wanders to the topic she generally tries to block out.

 

It's evening when Killian enters the gloomy house, hair stuck to his head and clothes soaked through. The rain pelts down against the windows in a way that’s almost soothing. Especially when she’s indoors. She doesn’t instantly go to Killian for that kiss, instead heads to the kitchen to make coffee. When she returns with two mugs the laptop is in his hands.

 

“An adoption website?” he asks with a disapproving tone, and his brows rise as he clicks the corner of the multiple websites until they disappear. “We’ve been through this.”

 

 _No, we haven’t_ she thinks; him not having information or withholding it, is not them discussing this. “I just thought…maybe I could find something.” She places the mugs on the table then sits on the couch, “You never know.”

 

Killian places the laptop down where it proudly shows the home screen of the two of them standing by the docks. “I’m sorry, love,” he says, and it’s sincere enough she smiles tightly. “Though-” his arms lift to the side with a snide smirk, “it’s kind of your own fault for being so stubborn.”

 

And _that_ is exactly how they have ended up here. Emma gulps back a response, convincing herself he’s only teasing. “I just want to know…” her hand slides up her shirt and rests on her lower abdomen. She sighs with a dull ache in her chest. “I don’t know why I wouldn’t have told you,” because if they were engaged wouldn’t she have trusted him with all her secrets?

 

“You can’t blame me for trying,” he says, “I asked you plenty of times, but it was always one excuse after the other with you.”

 

Emma nods, fingers gently trailing along the stretch marks. She’d asked Archie too, but he had no idea if she’d had a baby or where that baby might be. “I found my blanket,” she mutters, and pulls it onto her lap. It comforts her in that moment, more than the man towering over her does. “Why did you lie to me?”

 

He scoffs, “you trust me that little?” and Emma can feel the test beneath his words and remains silent. “I never lied to you, Swan, but I didn’t think you were ready for that.”

 

“Ready for the truth?” she asks, anger burning low in her chest. They’re going around in circles, and she wonders once again what was it about him that made her want to marry him?

 

Then he sighs, and she puts those thoughts aside with the gentle way he sits beside her and clasps her hand. _Perhaps_ , she thinks, perhaps this is hard on him, too. “The truth might be difficult to hear," and there’s a smidge of sympathy in his eyes, “you were found in that blanket at the side of a road where your parents abandoned you. You tried to find them, but you never could.”

 

It should hurt, but it just leaves her feeling numb. Her fingers clench around the blanket, the careful lettering, the softness, “It doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“Sometimes things don’t. But I need to get out of these clothes,” he says, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. Her smile is tight when she shakes her head, shoving him away with a hint of playfulness, but she doesn’t feel playful right now, not when there’s a gaping hole inside her that she doesn’t know how to fill. He picks up the mug, “thanks for the coffee, love,” then heads up the stairs, leaving her to stew in despair, with only the pelting rain as company.

 

* * *

 

One of the classrooms has been altered so the tables are pushed aside to allow for a circle of chairs for the committee meeting. There’s eight chairs, but only seven of them; her, Mary Margaret, Ashley Boyd – the assistant she had covered for, two teachers she has only talked to in passing, and two parents. Emma is still contemplating if they’re going to wait for a final member, most likely another parent who wants to be far too involved in their children’s lives, when she hears the familiar _clip-clip-clip-clip_ against the tiled floor _._

Emma sucks in a breath and presses her hands into the small gap between her knees. The urge to whip her head around causes her to dig her nails into the palm of her hands. She wants to twist her head so badly she makes a mental note to bring it up to Archie, because certainly it can’t be healthy how much she wants to flash a smug smirk just to see the mayor scowl. 

 

Turns out she doesn’t have to do anything. “This has to be a joke,” Regina drawls, and grips her fingers around the back of the plastic chair. Her eyes drill so hard into Emma’s head she squirms on her seat. “What is _she_ doing here?”

 

For a second something burns in her veins, but the moment she settles back against the chair, relaxing her body, Regina’s jaw clenches. “Your obsession with me is unhealthy,” Emma says with a shrug, and the faint chuckle around the circle has a slight redness grow on Regina’s cheeks. She would feel bad if she wasn’t such an ass, and she hadn’t been the one to declare war.

 

“Emma,” Mary Margaret says in warning, and it’s her turn for her cheeks to heat up.

 

“Sorry,” she mutters, flickering her eyes to Regina, “I get antsy when I don’t have regular bear claws.” The tiny upturn of Regina’s lips makes Emma’s stomach flip, and the desire to win whatever this is intensifies just to experience that victorious feeling again.

 

“We had a place to fill,” Mary Margaret says to Regina. “I believe Emma will be a great addition, and we could use a fresh perspective.”

 

“Very well,” she mutters, moving to take a seat. “The first order of business it the school dance. Are we any closer to deciding a theme?” she asks, and Emma is grateful she’s sitting directly opposite Regina. Mainly so she can flash her smug looks and roll her eyes when one of the parents brings up the idea of allowing the children to have a vote. She’s certain Regina bit down on her cheek, but then she’s also ninety-eight per cent certain Regina is incapable of laughing.

 

“Although a great idea,” Ashley says, saving the others in the process, “it would take too long to put it all together in time for the dance. Perhaps an idea for next year.” The woman nods, and Regina sighs overdramatically.

 

“At this rate it will be quicker,” Regina mutters, and when Emma snorts her dark eyes twinkle in amusement from across the room. Her heart rate increases, wondering what it would be like for them to be on the same side causing mischief for their own amusement. “Miss Swan, considering you’re supposed to have this fresh perspective, what ideas do you have?”

 

“Erm…” she hasn’t got a single one, and her brow furrows as she tries to think of a theme that’s not fire and ice, or angels and devils. “Heroes and Villains,” she says, eyes perking up. “There’s a collection of Disney books in the library-”

 

“You’ve set foot in a library?” Regina asks, slowly crossing one leg over the other.

 

Emma rolls her eyes, “I’ve had a lot of free time.”

 

“I think it’s a great idea,” Mary Margaret interjects, stopping their interplay before it takes off. “It gives the children plenty of opportunity to dress up as a character they like. There’s a lot in Disney to choose from.”

 

“There’s also marvel and DC,” Regina says, earning her a few questioning stares. She clears her throat and shuffles, “Henry enjoys them,” she explains, but all Emma can imagine is the two of them sitting down in front of the TV with a bowl of popcorn as they snuggle under blankets. “Are we in agreement?” When there’s a murmur Regina tips her head towards Emma. “No matter what everyone says, Miss Swan, perhaps you’re not _as_ useless as I believed,” and it’s so close to a compliment that Emma skips the fiery response.

 

* * *

 

Thoughts of them working together are on Emma’s mind when her eyes finally grow too heavy for her to fight sleep. It feels as if she’d closed her eyes minutes ago when she bolts up with lightning flashing behind them. She lifts her palms and eyes them as they tremble, breathing heavily. Her body is drenched in sweat. “Alright, love?” Killian asks, throwing on his jacket and flashing her a smile.

 

“Yeah,” she says thickly, mind racing over every image she can remember to try and make sense of it. She stares at her palms expecting electricity to shoot out of them. “I dreamt I was stuck in a mine and…”

 

 _Everyone sees me as the Evil Queen …_ Emma’s eyes squeeze tightly, trying to bring forth the rest of it. Two pairs of hands, electricity, the woman’s eyes that grow familiar with every dream, and those words. She trembles.

 

“You need to speak to Archie about these nightmares,” he cuts her off with a snappish tone as if they were affecting him and not her. “Perhaps he can prescribe you something.”

 

Emma nods, pushing her hands beneath the covers and shoves the thoughts away. It’s one of those dreams that can’t be real, anyway. “I will do.” He moves over to place a kiss to her forehead that leaves a slight tingle in her stomach, but then, “What time is it?” She grabs for her phone then throws the covers over the bed, standing abruptly and glares, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

 

“You were tossing and turning all night. Thought you could use the rest, love.”

 

Emma grits her teeth. “I can’t just lie in bed, Killian.” She reaches for her phone, turning the alarms back on, then flings it on the bed. “See you after work,” she mutters, shoves past his shoulder then slams the bathroom door shut.

 

He’s gone by the time she emerges from the shower. Ignoring the rumble in her stomach, she dresses quickly, then slides into the bug only a few minutes later than usual. A miracle, really. She settles in and places her hand on the wheel giving herself a moment to calm down. The yellow bug is one of the only things she hadn’t rejected on sight.

 

Except there’s an orange roadblock stood in the middle of the road. Emma huffs, the morning worsening by the second. Her fingers tighten on the steering wheel when she spins it around. It’s too late to set off walking, but of course the other road has the same block in place, standing there proudly and mockingly. “Come on,” she says, hitting the heel of her palm against the wheel.

 

It’s by sheer luck she had discovered a back street during her runs, pushing the speed limit driving down it. Then she slams her foot on the brake pedal, the car screeching to a stop a few metres from another roadblock. Her hand hits the centre of the wheel, the honk sounding as if it would make a difference. Grabbing her phone, she pushes from the bug then slams the door shut.

 

“Hey,” she says when Mary Margaret answers. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it in this morning.”

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah, there’s just roadblocks everywhere. Did you know about any work that’s happening?”

 

“Roadblocks? No, I haven’t heard anything and there’s nothing in town.”

 

Emma frowns and walks over to the block then keeps on walking right past it. “What the hell?” The road is perfectly fine.

 

“Emma, don’t worry about today. If you’re stuck there’s nothing you can do about it now.” Mary Margaret chuckles lightly and it allows Emma to take a breath. “You could always give the mayor’s office a call and try to figure out what’s going on.”

 

“The mayor?”

 

“She’s in charge of all construction work that happens in town.” _Of course._

 

“Son of a-” her teeth grit, “I’ll do that. Sorry about today. It won’t happen again.”

 

“That’s okay, Emma. I’ll let you go. Good luck.”

 

“Thanks,” she mutters then hangs up the phone.

 

Emma takes a deep breath, crouches, picks up a rock then hurtles it into the air. It only makes her feel marginally better. She stomps back over to the car, and full up on anger, drives right into the damn block and doesn’t stop. It flies off into the street. With any luck it’ll be damaged and will cost the mayor funds to replace it.

 

The tires screech outside of town hall, and Emma hopes it rings in Regina’s ears. “You’re a piece of work,” she says, storming into the office without knocking yet again. Regina chuckles and leans back on her chair. She stops in front of the desk with her hands clenched into fists, “What the hell is your problem?”

 

“You are the one who insists on showing up everywhere. I had to put a stop to it.” She lowers her eyes to Emma’s abdomen which tightens in response to the faint humming, before lifting her gaze with raised brows. “I wouldn’t mind if you weren’t so infuriating.”

 

Emma’s mouth opens then snaps shut. Regina cocks a brow with a sultry smirk, running her eyes the length of her body. It goes warm all over, leaving Emma flailing. “You’re the one who keeps buying all the bear claws every morning!”

 

“Well,” she says, dropping her voice, “I wouldn’t want you losing your figure.”

 

Emma’s stomach flutters, and she bounces on the balls of her feet. “Well…I’ll find a chainsaw and cut down your apple tree to take away your favourite food!”

 

“You already did that one, dear.”

 

“I…” she shakes her head, mouth hanging open. When she looks back to Regina their gazes meet, causing flashes to burst behind Emma’s eyes and the rest of the dream fills in.

 

_Let me die as Regina._

Emma stumbles backwards, as Regina frowns and leans forwards. “Miss Swan?” but Emma can’t think of anything past those desperate eyes; the ones she’s been dreaming about for months. The ones that are comforting, the ones she sees filled with despair, the ones that are now looking at her curiously behind the mayor’s desk.


	3. Chapter 3

_85 days into the curse._

 

In this school committee meeting she doesn’t challenge Regina once, no matter how hard the mayor tries to bait her. After her session with Archie where he’d encouraged her to keep a journal of the dreams _in case_ any are memories, she isn’t sure what to make of those she’s had so far. Emma slumps in her seat, muttering something about a headache, and receives a quizzical look from the older woman. “How about a kissing booth?” she suggests, and those hazel eyes twinkle and find her from across the room. “A town fair can’t be complete without one.”

 

“That’s a great idea,” Mary Margaret says, then chuckles, “but who would want to man it?”

 

“Miss Swan,” Regina says instantly, connecting their gaze. There’s something in her eyes that Emma can’t read, but she clears her throat, sitting up straighter as Regina cocks a brow, “any suggestions?” and she slumps back down until, “or perhaps... would you like to volunteer?”

 

Emma gulps, eyes locked with the mayor, and the woman who frequents her dreams. Mary Margaret sits up with a soft chuckle, “it’s not the best position. Don’t feel like you have to.”

 

“Of course not,” Regina says, sending fire rippling through Emma’s gut. The mayor licks her lips with her eyes trained on the younger woman. “I believe Miss Lucas may be available for a shift, but we need at least another person or two.”

 

“I’ll do it,” Emma says, that fire burning slowly in her belly.

 

Regina smirks, but Mary Margaret is back to frowning and the look Emma receives guts her in two. “If you’re sure,” Mary Margaret says, a little uncertainly, but chuckles anyway.

 

“She’s a grown woman,” Regina says, hand on her hip as she raises a brow. “Even if she doesn’t act like it,” she mutters, and for the first time during the meeting Emma smirks.

 

“I’m sure we’ll raise lots of money,” Ashely says, “Emma’s a catch-” she winks, and it has Emma nodding and feeling a tad better, even if there’s a burning sensation running through her blood she can’t make sense of.

 

“Are we in agreement for the town fair happening on the first Saturday of next month?” Regina asks, and when everyone agrees she looks directly at Emma. “Best get some Chapstick, Miss Swan,” and for a moment Emma wonders if she’ll be making an appearance at the booth, even if that’s a crazy idea that leaves her aching.

 

* * *

 

Five different books are spread out over the dining room table, each detailing different sections of mathematics. Henry has his elbows on the table, brow scrunched up as he taps his pencil against the pad of paper. “You okay kid?”

 

“Erm…I’m stuck on this one.”

 

He shoves the pad over and Emma runs her eyes over it. “How about we take it apart?” He nods, and she grabs a pencil and writes out the question. “Tell me where you would start.”

 

“Brackets.”

 

“You got it.” She winks then places her palm over the page. “Forget about this part of the equation for a minute, okay?” He nods and gets his pencil at the ready. “Start by multiplying out the bracket.”

 

He scribbles it down then bites his lip. “Is that it?” he asks, uncertainty in his eyes and for half a second Emma dreads disappointing him.

 

“Remember what we said about two negatives?” she asks softly.

 

His nose scrunches as he takes a moment to think, then, “They make a positive,” he says on a groan, and although Emma smiles and her heart elevates, he flops his head onto the table, ruffled hair falling over his eyes. “There’s so many rules.”

 

Emma chuckles, gently pats his back then pulls her hand away, shoving it under her thigh. She gets the pencil and draws a straight vertical line to correct the mistake. “Now what?”

 

He sighs before dragging himself back up and easily simplifying the rest of the equation. “X plus eleven,” he says and drops his pencil down. “Do we have to do this for much longer?” he whines, and Emma twitches.

 

“Nah, we’re good.” He sighs and flips his pad quickly. “You’ve got this, kid. I promise you know this. You just have to take a breath and work through each equation slowly.”

 

“Maybe-” he shrugs, palms flat on the table to push himself up. “It’s just remembering all the rules.”

 

“We could try to come up with a way to remember them?” she suggests, “we could find something you like to relate it to. You like comics, right?”

 

“Please don’t make them boring,” he says with a grimace.

 

Emma chuckles and keeps her hand under her leg to stop her from ruffling his hair. “I’ll figure something out,” she says. “You’ll ace this make-up test. I believe in you.”

 

He smiles a little sheepishly and drags the chair back under the table. “Thanks, Miss Swan.”

 

“It’s Emma,” she quickly corrects. 

 

“Thanks, Emma,” he says and smiles bashfully.  

 

“No problem, kid.” He nods then walks from the dining room table with a stack of books in his arms. Emma follows him with her eyes, a sinking in her gut with each step he takes.

 

Regina walks up to him, “Let me get those,” and takes them from him with adoration in her eyes. She chuckles lightly when they almost drop one as they’re passed over. Emma twists in her chair and simply watches them, eyes tracking their every movement.

 

“Thanks, mom.” He leans forwards to peck her cheek, and when he moves back there’s this soft look in Regina’s eyes, and it’s almost enough for Emma to believe she could never hurt a fly. And she wonders – mind wandering to an unknown happy place, imagining what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of that look.

 

She gently pats his cheek, “I’m so proud of you,” causing him to blush and bounce out of the room. Regina places the books into the bookshelf and eyes Emma at the same time. “Considering you're not _as_ useless as I anticipated,” Regina says with quiet disdain, “would you like to stay for dinner?” The gawk on Emma’s face has Regina smirking. “The least I could do is pay you in food.”

 

Perhaps she’s genuine, and when Emma’s stomach rumbles she immediately nods, “Yeah,” with shining eyes. Her lips part slightly when Regina twists her head and that soft look hasn’t left her eyes. “I’d like that,” even if she shouldn’t want to stay, but the little nod that follows has her stomach fluttering. From nerves, no doubt, and perhaps this is a terrible idea, but she’s agreed now. “Do you need any help?”

 

“I’m good, thank you. But you could help me set up the table?”

 

Emma nods and trails behind Regina into the kitchen, walking straight to the cupboard and pulls out three plates, places them on the dining room table then returns to grab knives and forks. It’s not until they’re set that she slowly makes her way back into the kitchen with a frown, “Have I been here before?”

 

Regina pulls out a tray from the oven and puts it on the side. “Not that I’m aware of,” she says, tugging the oven gloves off. She grabs a serving spoon, pausing when it’s been placed within the baked pasta. “You…?” her forehead creases and those dark eyes rake from the bottom of Emma, only stopping when their eyes meet. “Tell me you haven’t snuck into my house, Miss Swan?”

 

“Oh yeah, I came inside so I could make a blue print.”

 

Regina arches her brow, one hand on her hip. “You have been known to walk on the other side of the law,” she says, and the corner of her lip twitches.

 

Emma chuckles, “Who knew you were such a nerd?” She’s smiling wildly when Regina crosses her arms with an eye roll. When their eyes next meet Regina’s perfectly styled eyebrow arches but the little upturn of her lips stays put. Emma watches the transformation with quiet fascination. 

 

Regina clears her throat and whips her head away, and Emma’s mouth parts slightly before she dutifully looks anywhere but at the brunette. She hadn’t been aware she was staring, only glancing over as Regina slides the oven gloves back into place. She picks up the tray and takes it into the dining room with Emma following. “I’ll remind you that you should be polite whilst in other people’s houses,” she says, but it lacks the usual scorn, and Emma would think this is a rouse to poison her, if, well… she hadn’t looked to her like _that_.

 

But mainly because they’re all about to eat the same food. Emma doubts she would risk poisoning herself and Henry in the process just to win this war. “Right.” Emma rolls her eyes behind Regina’s back, trailing after the brunette woman who is absent of her usual heels, instead walking around with tight clad feet. 

 

Regina leaves to call Henry then returns with an encouraging smile, “You may sit down, Miss Swan.”

 

“Why do you call me that?” she asks, slipping onto a chair, and why does her fiancé insist on using her last name too? It doesn’t make sense, and even less so is the way it makes her shudder from the man she’s supposed to love.

 

Regina frowns for a moment as she takes her seat at the head of the table, and she’s lost in thought for a good thirty seconds. “From what I can tell, you like it.” 

 

Emma bites her lip and shrugs, sighing as Henry bounces into the room. He flops on a seat, “What are we having?” he asks, though he’s already half way to shovelling the food onto his plate. There’s a bite in his mouth before he ever gets an answer.

 

Emma chuckles and eyes him affectionately. “Slow down, kid.”

 

“Mom says I’m a growing boy,” he says, leant over the table and shoves a forkful of food into his mouth. 

 

“So, he has you wrapped around his little finger, Madame Mayor?” she asks with a wiggle of her eyebrows, the thought elevating her insides and wondering how much of a soft side the mayor really has. A soft side someone capable of attempted murder should not have– and Emma second guesses why she ever believed her capable of it.

 

“Absolutely not-”

 

“Absolutely,” Henry says at the same time.

 

Regina ruffles his hair with fake-gritted teeth. “Eat your dinner,” she says, and Emma watches their interplay with her hand flat against her stomach. It’s only when brown eyes focus back on her with this intense look that Emma’s thoughts of longing dissipate. “That goes for you, too, Miss Swan.”

 

Emma flushes, swallowing thickly before digging into the food. She moans slightly, “Ohmygod this is so good.” She shovels another bite in, leant over the table and eating far too quickly for it to be healthy. Much like Henry, but he simply giggles into his food.

 

“You’re as bad as a child,” Regina scolds, eating small nibbles and not letting a drop of sauce splodge around her mouth. Emma shrugs and eats more of the delicious food.

 

She covers her mouth with her hand, “t’is good,” she mutters, and the warm look she receives runs hot through her veins.

 

After it’s over and Henry has been excused, Emma gets up and walks around the dinning room, listening to Regina moving around the kitchen, she presses her lips together, then tiptoes until she’s shuffling behind the brunette woman.

 

“Can I help you, Miss Swan?”

 

Emma shrugs sheepishly, “Could I ask you something?”

 

Regina throws the cloth onto the side then squints her eyes. “Why do I get the impression I’m not going to like the question?”

 

Doubt flares like a warning light, but Regina might know _something_. Emma takes a breath, “I thought you might know something about my accident,” she says quietly.  Emma swallows, focusing on the fingers that twiddle in front of her middle. “I shouldn’t have accused you, but with everything they told me about Sidney-”  

 

“You believed I was behind it,” she says, more factually than anything else. Emma nods tightly. “Come with me,” she says diplomatically, then directs her to another room. There’s two leather couches, a coffee table between them and a cabinet against a wall stacked with alcohol. Emma slowly perches on the edge of one couch as Regina pours two drinks wordlessly. Emma takes the offered tumbler.

 

Regina sits opposite and crosses one leg over the other. “I may have hated you, but finding ways to get beneath your skin was the highlight of my day,” she admits with this smirk Emma wants to wipe clean. She takes a sip of the whisky and doesn’t move her eyes away from Emma’s. “It wasn’t me,” she says dryly, “just in case I haven’t made that clear.”

 

“What happened with Sidney?” Emma shuffles and feels a little guilty. _A lot_ guilty, she amends, because after these past few months she can’t come up with the reasoning behind her distrust.

 

Regina sighs, “I believe it was him, too,” she says, “he…” she takes another gulp of the drink and Emma does the same, somehow knowing this conversation was going to get ugly. “He came to me that night, claiming-”

 

“You said he was boasting about getting rid of a problem,” Emma fills in, knowing the basics of her statement from what David had told her.

 

Regina nods, “Yes,” then swallows with wet eyes. “He had made it clear he had feelings for me, but I rejected his advances. But that night when I asked him to leave he became aggressive. So, I called the police.”

 

Before considering whether Regina might not wish to talk about the subject, Emma asks, “did he hurt you?” because even thinking about it makes her want to punch a wall.

 

Regina shakes her head with a sigh. “Henry was asleep,” she says, “the last thing I wanted was for him to get hurt.”

 

A truth, Emma is sure, but, “I know we’re not…” she laughs awkwardly, not sure how to finish that sentence. 

 

“I didn’t lie,” she says shakily, “when I told the police…he tried to, but I faked my way out of it. I told him I needed to freshen up. Then,” she says, red eyes lowering to where her fingers lightly tap against the glass, “I hid in the bathroom until the sheriff arrived.”

 

 _It’s nothing to be ashamed of_ almost slips free, but instead she says, “That’s actually kinda smart,” and the gentle nod confirms her suspicions about the woman wanting to keep her pride intact.

 

“You could’ve just asked me,” she says with a wet chuckle. “I’m not a monster. I just…enjoy messing with people.” She chuckles lightly and Emma along with her.

 

“Yeah, well…I enjoyed removing your seat.”

 

Regina’s breath hitches, eyes narrowing, and Emma wants to do a happy dance. “That _was_ you,” she says, “to think I spent the last ten minutes only slightly loathing you.”

 

Emma cocks her brow, “What are you going to do about it?” she asks, heart rate accelerating, and when Regina stands Emma’s eyes don’t leave her gaze. Then Regina’s body is only inches away, leaning over closely to pry the tumbler from her fingers.

 

“Who says I’m going to do anything?” she asks, voice unusually high. Emma gulps, pulling her eyes up at the last moment. “Drink?”

 

She nods, mouth completely dry. Her mind is already returning to how Regina is going to retaliate and what she’s going to do in retaliation to _that,_ but it’s useless thinking about anything when Regina turns towards the cabin, and Emma’s gaze falls to the tight skirt clutching her curves. _Damn_ she’s attractive, and it makes her hate the mayor a little bit more, (even if she doesn’t _actually_ hate her), but appearances need to be kept up. Especially when they’re in the middle of what Regina described as war.

 

She’s utterly and unashamedly staring when Regina turns with the tumblers in her hands. Her brows raise, but her mouth remains closed as she makes her way back over. “I’m sorry I accused you,” Emma says, because now, _now –_

 

Now she’s excited to find ways to piss the mayor off, to wipe that smug look from her face, to… have her handing over a tumbler as their eyes meet in an intense blaze. “It’s not like you didn’t threaten me, though.”

 

“And that threat still stands,” she says, smirking, then takes steps over Emma’s feet. “It’s my son who seems to like you,” she says, sitting beside Emma. “I thought I raised him better than that. But well-” her eyebrows raise, and the tease in her tone has Emma chuckling.

 

She had been an idiot. She _believes_ that Regina is telling the truth, and that’s worth more than a scrap of information about the past.

 

“He clearly has great taste,” she says and gently nudges her shoulder. Regina twists until their knees bump. Emma’s breath hitches, and her chest stays tight when Regina doesn’t shuffle away. “He’s a great kid.”

 

“That he is.” She raises her glass, so Emma does the same. “To Henry,” she says, and they clank them together.

 

“To Henry,” Emma repeats softly, bringing the glass to her lips, as she makes a mental note to thank the kid profusely.

 

* * *

 

It’s the end of the school day when Mary Margaret turns towards her and asks, “Are you still able to come for dinner tonight?” and in all honesty Emma had forgotten that they’d arranged this.

 

It’s only been a week since they had, but within that week she’d had a tutoring session, (from which she hadn’t returned until the early hours of the morning), attended a school committee meeting, which had lasted three hours as they’d discussed their roles for setting up the town fair and for the school dance, (and somehow she’d been paired with Regina for dance decorating duty), and had worked at the school on all days but one.

 

They were close to fighting last night, and for the first time she’d wondered if she _should_ be spending more time with her fiancé. “Erm, would it be okay if Killian came along?” she asks, because there must have been a time when she loved him enough to consider walking down the aisle, and currently, she’s walking a fine line of throwing it all away. _What_ exactly she’s throwing away she has yet to figure out, but there must have once been something.

 

“I don’t see why that would be a problem,” she says, shuffling some papers on her desk. When she next smiles at Emma she gives her this wistful look and sighs, “Are things working out better?” 

 

Emma’s only response is a small hum that doesn’t confirm nor deny anything. She certainly doesn’t add how the next tutoring session had led to dinner then drinks on the porch with the mayor. Mostly they talked about Henry, or Regina had spoken about Henry with this soft gleam in her eyes as Emma had listened to every detail and stored them away like trinkets.

 

He’d been crankier than a child after she returned late for the second time, promptly wiping Emma’s good mood clean. It was only when he’d looked with longing, muttering something about being lonely without the woman he fell in love with that a slither of guilt had grown as he’d wordlessly crawled into bed.

 

“He’s my fiancé,” she says on a slight chuckle, and for a flash it sounds like a joke, but the ring weighs heavily on her finger when she twiddles it and forces up a smile. Mary Margaret pauses with her head tipping to the side as if she could decipher between the smiles Emma presents.

 

Emma holds her breath, but then Mary Margaret shakes her head understandingly, “Then of course,” and returns to packing up her things as Emma slowly releases the breath. When she still hasn’t moved, Mary Margaret looks up with a frown. “Is everything okay?”

 

Biting her lip, she shrugs, “Am I that transparent?” not that she wants to talk about this outside of Archie’s office in case she’s dismissed completely, but, “I’ve been having these dreams,” she mutters, and the feelings of needing to save those trapped remains. If only the dreams could provide her with the information of who exactly is trapped, and how she is supposed to go about saving them.

 

“Dreams?” Mary Margaret asks, shuffling her bag into place over her shoulder before gently tapping Emma’s arm. “Walk with me,” she says, and they dodge desks and make their way down the empty hallway.

 

“Yeah. I’ve been having them for months,” Emma explains, “I’ve been talking to Archie about them, we think some might be actual memories.” There’s a quiet gasp beside her, but she quickly adds, “but some of them involve things that can’t be real. It doesn’t make any sense.” They make even less sense than they had when it had just been dragons, and magic, but then there was Mary Margaret with a bow and arrow, shooting an ogre in the eye, and Regina in an insane dress creating a fireball in her palm. (Though Emma still thinks it’s not completely crazy to believe that Regina might be capable of creating fire).

 

“But some could really be your memories?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma says, a little more hopeful now that Mary Margaret hasn’t instantly deemed her insane. “But I don’t remember them, just remember dreaming about them.”

 

“Everything will work out. Have faith.”

 

Emma nods tightly as they push through the double doors and out onto the almost empty parking lot. “And I was thinking,” she says, “if you still needed any help with the camping trip…”

 

“I thought you didn’t want to go?”

 

Emma shrugs, because she hadn’t wanted to do more than what was required, but, “I like working with you,” she says a little sheepishly, and she’s sure there’s a revenge plan in there somewhere. “And it’s been months, and I was thinking it would be good to get out in the community.” Build her life back up in a way _she_ wants to, and not how everyone else tells her it should be.

 

Mary Margaret grabs her and has her wrapped up in a tight hug immediately. “I’d love your help,” she whispers, and Emma’s bottom lip wobbles within the hold. With her chin on the woman’s shoulder, her eyes flutter closed, and she returns the hug far too tightly. Mary Margaret gives her back a quick rub then lets go first. “I’ll see you tonight.”

 

“Yeah,” she smiles. “See you then.”

 

Her emotions spiral for reasons she doesn’t understand, causing her to drive off to a secluded spot. She takes a few quaky breaths, wiping at her cheeks and wills herself to stop crying so she doesn’t arrive back later than Killian. He doesn’t need to see her tears, not when he’ll ask for an explanation, and she doesn’t have one other than a simple hug had caused this.

 

And _if_ he were to find out then he might claim everything she’s doing is too much and drag her back into the confines of the house until she suffocates. Not that it matters by evening. It turns out that the random crying is nothing compared to when the dinner gets cut short. Emma’s legs wobble when a sniffling Neal is pulled into his mother’s arms after he’d puked up his meal.

 

She walks off with the child in her arms, leaving David to mutter out an apology before seeing them out. Emma glances over his shoulder wanting to at least say goodbye, but when Mary Margaret’s back is to her she gulps and turns to Killian. But there’s something disconcerting about his expression when he wraps an arm around her shoulder.

 

She would swear up and down that it was a malicious smirk, but ignores the gut feeling all the way back. Especially when he catches her in the bathroom not thirty minutes later, arms wrapped around her knees and staring blankly ahead, and the only comfort is his soothing voice and arms that tug her up and into bed. 

 

There’s no fight left inside when he pulls her onto his chest, accepting the comfort effortlessly as he whispers soothing words in her ear from, “you’ll always have me,” to, “we only need each other,” to, “you’re better off without them.” She listens with half an ear and almost believes it all.

 

Her mind hardly quietens enough for her to drift off, but it fires back up instantly. She dreams of a cave, and a man trapped in a box made of twigs, and _I want another baby_ , and she whimpers in her sleep, twisting her body in a futile effort to fight them off.

 

* * *

 

With the dream fresh in her mind Emma drags her feet to the bathroom, sighing when she steps into the shower. The water trickles then streams out in waves as she huddles her arms to her chest, tipping her head forwards so it runs over her head and down her back. It’s soothing, but not nearly enough to settle the coldness in her chest, only freezing over when she opens her eyes and runs her fingers along her taut stomach.

 

With her thoughts threatening to spiral she hardly notices the temperature of the water dropping, not until it freezes and pelts down against her skin. Yelping, she pushes the shower door open and stumbles out. There’s a huge pout when she yanks the towel from the railing and shoves it around her body. She supposes the meagre shower will have to do for now, quickly brushing her teeth then testing the hot water in the sink.

 

It’s cold, and after she ties her hair up in a messy bun and throws on the first outfit she comes across –  a pair of jeans and tank top she’d found hiding in the back of a closet, she jogs down the stairs. “Is the hot water working down here?” she asks Killian.

 

He pauses for a moment and narrows his eyes at her, running them over her body until she feels exposed. Her steps slow as she walks into the kitchen, looking down at herself with a frown.

 

“Haven’t tried it, love.” He meets her step for step, grips his fingers into her hips, pressing his lips down. Emma’s head jolts backwards at the firmness of the kiss, it felt almost like a statement, as if he had something to prove. 

 

But she stands stiff, eyes open, and arms dangling by her sides. It isn’t unpleasant, but it’s not exactly pleasant either, so she gives him another moment, because last night he had finally acted like a fiancé should, and it gives her a moment to kiss back and evaluate what she feels.

 

He moans, tongue flickering across Emma’s lower lip. She shudders, pulls back and forces a smile. His hands spread on her lower back, eyes swirling with lust, a contrast to the way she squirms from beneath his touch. She sighs in relief when he moves away and downs the rest of his coffee. 

 

“I’m heading to the station,” he says, clanking the mug into the sink with the expectation that she’ll be the one to clean it. She hadn’t minded so much when she’d been in the house all day, because at least then it gave her something to do. But now? When she has as much to do as Killian, a little help wouldn’t go amiss.

 

“Have a good day at work,” she says, pushing her cheeks up in a way that’s making them ache with exertion.

 

His smile back is wonky, “Don’t forget to bring up the dreams with Archie,” he says, “we all want to get a good night’s sleep, Swan.” She nods tightly, forced smile wavering that sets his jaw tight. “And if there’s a problem with the water, you’re best friends with the mayor, call her,” he scoffs, then walks away whilst shaking his head.

 

Emma opens her mouth to ask him what his problem with the mayor was, aside from the obvious that’s she’s a pain in the ass, but she doesn’t get the chance to ask before the door slams hard enough to make her flinch. Dipping her fingers under the cold water she sighs then twists the tap off a little too forcefully, quickly shoving a pop tart into the toaster.

 

 _The mayor._ The fucking mayor. Is she responsible for everything that goes down in this town? It’s a wonder she has enough free time to mess with anyone. Regina might have come around a little bit, but that woman is infuriating. Emma shoves the pop tart into her mouth and flies out of the house whilst still chewing. The bug stops outside of city hall the moment Regina steps out of her Mercedes.

 

Regina’s hair swishes against the breeze, hands shoved into the pockets of her long black coat and she walks leisurely towards Emma. A tightness grows in her throat the more distance the mayor covers. “Ah, Miss Swan,” she says, with this twinkle in her eyes as she cocks a brow, “you’re out early.” She chuckles lightly, looking damn incredible whilst Emma’s stood with her hair bunched on top of her head.

 

Emma’s swallows hard, head shaking, “My fucking water, Regina!” she says, stomping closer and closer until – she’s jolted to a stop when Regina hasn’t moved an inch. Her brown eyes startle when Emma stops a meagre few inches away from colliding with her body. They settle as Emma’s stomach tightens, but she refuses to step away and look like an idiot. “That was…that was rude!” she stutters, ignoring the flickering eyes that inadvertently travel to her lips.

 

A tongue runs along those delicious red painted lips, before they part slightly to expose a deep throaty chuckle. Regina flips her luscious hair then swaggers her hips away. Emma’s eyes dip, and she rolls them at the obvious exaggeration to the movements. After a deep breath to settle the nerves, Emma follows, but by the time she is inside the office, she bounces on the balls of her feet with a slight giddiness. Mainly because of the fabulous idea to retaliate that is already forming.

 

Emma smoothers down a grin, hanging by the door, and slips her hands into the pockets of her jeans. By the coat rack Regina twists her head, “I’ll make a call,” she says casually, then moves across the room with her head tipped upwards. Emma doesn’t move when Regina gracefully sits on the chair then tugs herself beneath the desk.

 

It’s only when Regina glances up and scowls, one that appears far more for show than anything real, that she’s jolted into the room. “How helpful,” Emma says dryly, but her smile in response is lopsided, only growing when Regina bows her head to cover the briefest of smirks. “I didn’t even get to wash my hair. I look gross.”

 

“On the contrary,” Regina replies with a raise of her eyebrows, “you’ve never looked better.” Their gaze remains connected for a moment before Regina lowers hers to begin riffling through some papers.

 

Emma frowns, wondering if it’s a joke, but when Regina remains oddly silent she lets out an easy breath. “Err…thanks,” she mutters; “I think I prefer this to those dresses.” Regina chuckles softly, and Emma bites her lip, wondering exactly what purpose turning her water off was supposed to provide. Annoying her was certainly one of them, but maybe there’s another. One that makes a hand fly to her stomach.

 

“Was there anything else you needed?” Regina asks, still scribbling over documents.

 

Emma clutches onto her shirt, a flicker of pain flashing through her eyes. “Regina,” she says, and her tone of voice causes the other woman to snap her head up. “I was wondering if you keep records of people in town?” she asks, slowly moving into the room, but it’s only when Regina raises her arm towards the empty chair that Emma takes a seat, not wanting to impose or push this semi-hatred truce.

 

Regina tips her head, “Are you…wanting to stalk someone?” she asks on a slight chuckle, but Emma’s head shake has the expression drop.

 

“No.” Her smile is tight, hands twiddling in her lap. “Do you have anything on me?”

 

Regina leans back on the chair, eyeing her curiously. “Still no memories?” At Emma’s casual shrug, she nods slowly, “Sorry, dear. We don’t keep those sorts of files.”

 

Emma’s gut sinks, but the force of the blow is lessened by the sincerity in Regina’s eyes. “Figured,” she mutters, “thanks-” she pushes from the chair and shakes out her hands as she walks towards the office door. 

 

“Emma?” She stops moving. Emma turns around slowly to face a Regina with raw vulnerability in her eyes. “You don’t hate me.” She smothers down her clothes and walks around her desk. “Why?”

 

Emma shrugs, “I don’t have a reason to hate you.” Regina nods slowly lowering herself to the couch. “No memories, no feelings,” she says simply, gravitating towards the woman and sitting next to her. “It’s the same with Killian,” she admits, quickly slamming her stupid mouth shut. “It’s kind of hard to feel anything when I don’t remember why-” she sighs, “I’ve been trying, but nothing I do changes how I feel.”

 

“Which is?”

 

Emma lets out a breath whilst wrestling the confusing thoughts inside her mind. She looks to Regina first then to her twiddling hands. She could deny it, she could try to push it away and pretend there’s nothing going on, but it doesn’t change how she feels, “Nothing.”

 

“With me…you feel nothing?”

 

Emma wouldn’t say _nothing,_ not with Regina, but, “I don’t hate you, if that’s what you mean.”

 

“Never? But-”

 

“I had fun messing with you.” She chuckles and gently bashes Regina’s shoulder as those hazel eyes roll. Something grows in the pit of her stomach when Regina chuckles back, and she swallows down her confusion and twiddles the ring on her finger.  “You obviously you got kicks out of it.”

 

“I’m not confirming nor denying that.” There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as she throws one leg over the other. Emma’s eyes trail to the raised thigh then to the blouse hugging her curves and showing off a nice amount of cleavage. Her chest heaves and she takes a calming breath and tries to understand what it all means. Regina’s voice pulls her away when she asks, “What was it that you wanted with the records?”

 

“Oh, erm…” scrunching the bottom of her shirt she blows out another breath. “Will you keep this between us?”

 

“You trust me?” Regina’s voice is a little high-pitched, tentative, but her eyes are intense.

 

“More like I’m out of options.” She chuckles wetly and shuffles in place, but the slow nod and tight smile makes her cringe. “But yeah, I mean, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.” The nod this time is almost as tentative. “I have stretch marks, but I don’t know what happened to erm… to my baby.”

 

Regina’s mouth parts slightly, “ _Oh_.” When Emma glances her way Regina’s face is set tight as a dozen different emotions play out across her eyes. Ones Emma hasn’t thought to feel beyond her confusion and the ache it leaves in her gut. _Rage, sorrow, regret,_ but then her face softens and a hand settles on her thigh, “I wish I could help you.”

 

Emma wasn’t expecting to find anything, but those terrible thoughts and feelings seem to pause with the way Regina looks at her, like she is worth _something_. “It’s okay-” her eyes flicker to the hand that’s still touching her. It’s nice, comforting, and it’s not too heavy, or too possessive, it doesn’t make her want to flinch like with ... anyways, “Thanks for hearing me out.”

 

“Anytime-” she smiles, retreating the hand. 

 

Emma hides her disappointment by arching a brow, “Are you sure you want to offer me that?”

 

“Do shut it, Miss Swan.”

 

Emma chuckles, bumping the sides of their shoulders. “And what fun would that be?” she asks, baiting the mayor so they can get back to the territory she would be completely lost without.


	4. Chapter 4

_105 days into the curse._

 

“I sort of…forgot,” she mutters, shrugging sheepishly. The dreams have been as insistent as always, but more likely than not by the time she has started her day they fall to the back of her mind. Writing them down seems more like a chore. “Most of the dreams are insane anyway,” and make so little sense she’s doubting whether any of them are real memories after all. “I still sometimes feel like people are trapped though.”

 

“Is that still causing any anxiety?” Archie asks slowly.

 

She shrugs, “A little bit.”

 

“Who exactly is trapped, Emma?” She shrugs again. “Perhaps when you feel anxious over this,” he says, “ask yourself that question, and if you can’t think of a reasonable answer then do you remember some of the techniques we talked about?”

 

She nods, “I’ll try,” because it isn’t that simple. Not when _she_ feels trapped over decisions she doesn’t remember making. “I don’t think I can trust myself,” she whispers, eyes widening at the admittance then shaking her head at his frown. “I just…I…” her throat constricts and her eyes sting. A hand runs shakily through her hair.

 

Her views have shifted so dramatically from the life she woke up to, but the only knowledge she has is what everyone else tells her, and it feels all wrong. So wrong in so many ways and it _shouldn’t_ and it doesn’t make any sense, and for all she knows she might wake up tomorrow and have a full set of memories whilst hating herself for ruining everything.

 

Archie nods slowly, regarding his client with curiosity in his eyes. “I understand why not having your memories might be frustrating-”

 

“It’s not that,” she cuts him off, laughing wetly and without an ounce of humour. “I want them back, obviously, but…” she takes a slow calming breath and reminds herself she’s safe here. “I’m starting to accept I might never get them back. I think I want to try to move on.”

 

“What has brought you to this decision?” he asks, mild surprise in his tone. 

 

“I keep living for the past, but I don’t want to continue living a life I didn’t choose.”

 

She thinks back to a few nights ago when she’d stayed late after the last tutoring session, (they had watched The Avengers, and Regina had made popcorn, and Emma spent half of the movie throwing it at Regina then blaming Henry for it, who in turn threw so much popcorn at her it stuck all over her hair, then Regina brushed her hand as she walked her to the door and she wobbled).

 

When she returned late Killian had looked sullen, defeated, and wrapped her in a tight embrace as if she would crumble if he were to let go. “I’m so glad I found you,” he whispered, reminding her that Killian had found her on the side of the road and therefore had saved her life.

 

If it wasn’t for him she might not be alive, so when Archie asks, “And what life would you like to live?” Emma remains silent, unsure how to answer that honestly.

 

* * *

 

Her teeth dig painfully into her bottom lip when the mansion door swings open and Regina’s furrowed brows greet her. “Clean them up.” It takes everything within Emma to hold onto the innocence on her face.

 

Emma crosses her arms, red leather jacket crinkling to accommodate the movement. “Clean what up?” she asks, knowing full well her expression is far from innocent no matter how hard she tries. She bites her lip harder, lowering her head slightly when laughter threatens to boil over. The curled blonde hair travels over her eyes, a blessing really, as it hides the mischief within them.

 

Regina’s finger tips grip harder into the door and when she huffs Emma snaps her head back up, sighing in disappointed when steam doesn’t blow from her nose. “Those-” her arm shoots out, and Emma ducks out of the way to keep her head attached. Regina smirks evilly.

 

Henry places his hands on his mother’s shoulders and pops his head around the door. “I think we should keep them-” he giggles, “it brightens up the place.”

 

Regina breathes in slowly through her nose then lets out the breath, but it’s still not enough for Emma to be spared the lethal glare. “We are not keeping a dozen pink flamingos!” Henry jumps – her attempts at not startling her son for nothing, then snickers behind her shoulder when Emma winks.

 

“You are always complaining about the flowers,” he says, “and the apples not growing right.”

 

“Like flamingos are any better.” Regina’s hard eyes focus back on Emma, “What even possessed you?”

 

She shrugs, “Why do you think it was me? Maybe you have a secret admirer.” Then Emma flushes and ducks her head as Regina squints her eyes and hums.

 

“Then I’ll be sure to tell them ‘no way in hell’ but in the meantime. Clean. It. Up.” She spins on her heel and whips straight past Henry.

 

When she’s out of sight he lifts his palm into the air. Emma slaps it with a grin. “Don’t tell her I told you,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. When Regina is out of earshot he leans closer to Emma. “Mom laughed until she cried when she saw them.”

 

“She did?” Emma’s face lights up as images of Regina with tears in her eyes and clutching at her stomach comes to the forefront of her mind. She only wishes she could have seen it. 

 

Henry pushes the door open and steps aside.  “Yup.”

 

“We better get to studying before I lose my head.” Emma’s smiling and spends the rest of the evening smiling smugly at Regina whenever they’re in the same room. Regina repeatedly rolls her eyes, but after dinner offers to open a bottle of wine. Unable to resist, the pair end up sat on the porch talking about everything and nothing.

 

Regina turns her gaze to Emma, forehead wrinkling, “Did you find anything about-” she presses her lips together, takes a sip of the wine then lets out a long breath. “About your baby?” Emma’s breath shudders as she shakes her head then places the wine glass to her lips. “I didn’t mean to…does your fiancé not know?”

 

“No,” Emma says quickly. “Nothing about this makes sense. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.”

 

Regina takes a moment to think, then says, “It’s your life.” She sighs and nods, shuffling a little until Regina asks, “Do you still feel nothing?” and when Emma nods, she adds, “is that the same for everyone?”

 

“Just him.” She sighs. “I feel like somewhere deep down I should love him, but something doesn’t click.” Regina nods again, takes a sip of her wine then stares with softness. The raised brows almost encourage her to spill everything. “Say tomorrow you meet a guy who has proof that you’re supposed to be with him.”

 

“Proof?”

 

“We have engagement rings, and photos, and a shared house, but other than that-” she looks down and shakes her head, “It’s not real.” But he loves her and continues to be there even if she’s acting differently than the woman he proposed to. That must mean something.

 

Regina blows out a long breath. “You want my advice?” she asks, with this tone that makes Emma want to shake her head and tell her to lie. She forces a nod. “You can’t force love or feelings. If someone told me I was supposed to love them I’d probably do the opposite out of spite.”

 

Emma chuckles, “What if there were extenuating circumstances?”

 

“Like your memories?” Emma nods, but in that moment wonders if never knowing would be better than continuing like this. “I would try, but if there was no spark. I think everyone has their limits.”

 

Emma mumbles something incoherent, only vaguely surprised by the hand that settles on her thigh. It’s warm and makes her body go hot all over whilst simultaneously sending a tingle to her stomach. That’s the _third_ time Regina’s touched her. She swallows and lifts her eyes, her breathing shallowing when brown eyes darken. Regina clears her throat and places the hand between her own knees, and Emma shuffles and looks out into the night sky.

 

They get back onto safe topics, discussing Henry and the upcoming town fair. There’s a few jabs about her shift at the kissing booth, and Emma wonders once again if Regina will show up for it. Then she wonders if she wants her to or if it would be easier if she didn’t see her there at all. “I should probably go,” she says, standing and plastering something so very fake on her face.

 

“Well, goodnight, dear.”

 

Emma simply nods and flees to her house. Killian isn’t overly happy that she’d stayed out again, making his displeasure known by stomping around the house and sighing as if wounded.

 

That is until she’s changing and he wraps his arms around her from behind. “I think it’s time we spent some quality time together,” he says, but she shuts her eyes and shakes her head. “Come on, Swan. You never have time for me anymore. I miss you.”

 

“Killian…” she squirms until he loosens his grip. “You can’t keep forcing this on me,” she says, plonking down on her side of the bed. “I’m not ready for that.”

 

“I’m willing to wait, but Swan I need to know that you want this too, that you want me.” She remains silent, looking down to her lap. “You know I’m never going to leave you, it has to happen eventually.”

 

All Emma can manage is a tight smile and turning away from him when he gets into bed. She sighs when he doesn’t wrap around her. That is until her alarm blares when it’s still dark outside, and she fumbles for her phone. Killian groans and throws a pillow over his head. She squints at the phone and taps the screen multiple times to turn off the obnoxious siren blaring from it. _Pink flamingos, Miss Swan?_ the alarm says, and when Emma manages to switch the alarm off at 3:04am she’s ready to do more than place a dozen oversized plastic animals on Regina’s front lawn.

 

* * *

 

 **Hey! Can I ask you something?** She texts Mary Margaret, biting her lip whilst huddled in the corner of her couch. She would ask her face to face but that would be too embarrassing.

 

**Of course, ask me anything x**

**Okay, so… how do you know when you’re attracted to someone? x**

**Is there someone in particular you’re thinking about? x**

Emma hesitates then decides to ignore that question. **How does it feel when you kiss David?** The reply takes a little longer than the last, but it doesn’t go into much more detail than Mary Margaret likes to kiss her husband. That doesn’t really help all that much and with a sigh she realises she’ll have to bring it up face to face with the woman. They send a few more messages then she replies with a quick **thanks, see you tomorrow** then flops her head over the couch.

 

She waits until lunch the following day, shuffling on the plastic seat as Mary Margaret sits opposite. “Can we talk about that thing now?”

 

“What thing?” Mary Margaret frowns, and Emma curses at herself for having to explain any of this out loud.

 

“When you know if you’re attracted to someone,” she mutters, “it’s not like I have a lot to go on.”

 

“Are we talking about Killian?” She takes a bite of her lunch then waits expectantly. Emma isn’t sure what to say, not when someone else pops up inside her mind.

 

“Sort of. I’m sort of confused about some stuff with him.”

 

The other woman bites her lip then squints her eyes, “Do we need to have the talk?” she asks, face serious and unreadable.

 

Emma’s mind goes blank then her eyes widen as she shakes her head, “No, I can remember all that stuff, well…I don’t know what experience I have because well I don’t remember but-” she groans and flops her head into her arms. “He wants me to have sex with him, but I don’t feel anything when I look at him,” she says quickly, lifting her eyes and hopes she doesn’t blush. “Am I supposed to?”

 

“You mean…feel aroused?” she asks without so much as a blink. Emma turns red. “I would expect that if you are attracted to him you would know.” She chuckles lightly, “It’s not something I wish to explain in great detail.”

 

 _Thank goodness for that._ Emma’s one hundred percent certain she would not be able to sit here and listen to that. “Can erm-” her fingernail trails in circles over the table, “can women be attracted to other women?” she mutters, not lifting her eyes, not until –

 

“Of course,” she replies with so much certainty Emma’s shoulders relax and she lifts her eyes with a brief smile. “Is there someone you might be attracted to?”

 

Emma shrugs, “I’m engaged,” as if that is supposed to be an adequate answer.

 

“Not that I condone cheating, but David was married when we first began to fall for each other.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“I visited him every day when he was in a coma, then he woke with no memories of his wife. We connected instantly.” Her smile is bright, but it falls when she catches Emma’s frown.

 

“That sounds familiar,” Emma says with a hint of disbelief and amusement. “Is this town cursed or something?” They both chuckle lightly. “I don’t know what to do, Killian was the one to find me on the side of the road. Without him…”

 

“You can’t help what your heart wants.”

 

Emma swallows, “What if I don’t know what it wants?”

 

“Then you need to figure that out.” She reaches a hand out and takes Emma’s, “Anyway, are you ready for the town fair this weekend?” Emma’s only response is to groan. It has been almost a month since Regina volunteered her for the kissing booth and she still hasn’t made up her mind about how she wants _that_ to end.

 

* * *

 

For the last thirty minutes Killian has been chatting with David whilst trying to win her a giant stuffed bear. It’s _adorable,_ and if it weren’t for the appeal of the fluffy bear she would have wandered off in search of some cotton candy by now. It’s only when she catches sight of shabby brunet hair and a handsome smile that makes her go all soft that she finally stalks away from them.

 

“Henry,” she calls, dodging through crowds of people until she reaches the teen.

 

“Hey, Emma!” He smiles brightly and leaves his group of friends. Her heart swells for a moment, glad she isn’t deemed too embarrassing.

 

“Hey, kid. I erm…I need to ask you something.” She quickly glances around then pulls them behind a hot dog stand, secluded from the rest of the town fair.

 

“Okay.” He frowns a little. “Do I at least get a hot dog out of it?”

 

She chuckles, “Sure,” then shuffles and bites her lip. The arch of his brow is a perfect imitation of his mother’s. “I was wondering if you could help me out with something.” Not that she had planned to extort a child, but she’s certain he will be more than helpful when it comes to this plan. It’s big, and epic, and… 

 

Regina deserves it.

 

Emma had been naive enough to think the alarm was a onetime thing. It took her three nights of getting woken up at random times in the middle of the night to realise she had put _twelve_ alarms on her phone. One for every flamingo, no doubt.

 

“Is this going to get me in trouble?”

 

“Maybe,” she says slowly, giddiness running wild in her veins. “I signed your mom up for the camping trip and I’m going to need you to keep it from her long enough so she can’t back out.”

 

Henry’s eyebrows skyrocket. “Wow,” he says, disappointment in his tone, “just when you guys were finally getting along.” Emma gives him this sheepish shrug. His expression slowly morphs to smug as he crosses his arms, chin tipped upwards. “What do I get in return?”

 

“Seriously? You’re extorting me?” Although, she should not be surprised that Regina’s son knows how to play this game. 

 

“Yup. My head will end up on a pike next to yours. We might even replace the flamingo decorations.”

 

Emma chuckles, “You’re telling me that’s not worth seeing your mother sleeping in a tent in the middle of the woods?”

 

“Absolutely.” He grins. “But I’m still going to need payment.”

 

Emma crosses her arms. “Name your price, kid.” She is willing to give him the earth in exchange for this. He taps his chin a few times, and Emma’s grateful no one is around to see her getting played like this. 

 

Then his nose wrinkles, “When mom goes to the kissing booth please make sure I’m not around.”

 

“That’s it?” Her eyes squint and her stomach does a flip. “You don’t want anything?”

 

“And that hot dog you promised, candy, a milkshake, and some cash for the games.”

 

Emma shakes her head and chuckles, “Done. I doubt she’ll show up though.” The thought is enough to send her mind spiralling down paths she probably shouldn’t be visiting. She just wants to see what it’s like, if it’s any different from kissing Killian, or if it makes her react and want _more._

 

Henry shakes his head like she’s an idiot then holds his hands out for the cash. She rolls her eyes and gives it to him, knowing she would have done the same without being bribed. She wanders around the town fair after that, telling herself that she’s simply looking around and not searching for anything in particular, feeling a wave of disappointment hit her gut when it’s time for her shift at the kissing booth. 

 

Surprisingly, it is not the _worst_ being stuck behind the giant cardboard set up and pecking people’s lips or kid’s cheeks. Emma is sort of having fun. Ruby saunters over for the second time waving a dollar in her hand and hands it over with a gleam in her eyes.

 

“People are going to start talking,” Emma says, giddily shoving the dollar into the plastic container behind the makeshift booth. Not that she particularly minds, Ruby’s _obviously_ attractive, and fun to be around, and if she wants to kiss Emma again, who is she to say no?

 

Ruby chuckles, “I like kissing, sue me,” and winks, before pushing onto her tiptoes and pressing a quick kiss to Emma’s puckered lips. It’s over quickly, much like all of them, so it doesn’t really give her any indication on how she should feel about kissing.

 

She’s still waiting for a certain brunette when the wrong brunette comes over with a small child on her hip. Emma’s smile is a little pained, “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she says, because she likes Mary Margaret, and doesn’t understand why this makes her shiver. “I don’t think I can kiss you.”

 

“You know…” she readjusts Neal and pulls two dollars from her purse, “I’ve been avoiding the booth all day.”

 

“Ma!” Neal says, waving his little hands in Emma’s direction.

 

“Hey, bud.” She tickles his chin and his little legs kick against his mother’s side.

 

Mary Margaret chuckles softly, and hands over the dollars. “Doesn’t mean you’re getting away without a kiss,” she teases, lightly cupping her cheek to press a quick peck to her forehead. It’s beyond sweet, and Emma’s smile is legit when she pulls back. “Now it’s your turn,” she says to her son, who leans towards Emma, grabs her cheeks then gives her a big sloppy kiss.

 

“Thanks, kid.” She laughs, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth. “Best kiss I’ve had all day.”

 

Mary Margaret smiles, “Thanks again for doing this,” she says and Emma nods before she turns and walks back to her family.

 

Emma watches her go, eyes on them as she places the toddler on the ground and takes a hold of his hand, guiding him to where David remains manning one of the game stations. She smiles sadly, only pulling her eyes away when she finally hears the mayor approaching, then all she can think of are swaying hips and that sultry smile.

 

Emma’s palms are suddenly sweaty, and she bites her lip in a futile attempt to push away newly acquired thoughts. She sucks in a breath smiling uncertainly when Regina stops in front of the booth. “Miss Swan.”

 

“Hi.” Her breathing deepens when the brunette licks her lips. She hands over a dollar, and Emma fingers fumble with the plastic container. Emma falters as she sees Regina’s smile suddenly transform into a frown. “You know you don’t have to…” but then she catches Regina’s line of sight and the fiancé watching them intensely.

 

A slight glisten overcomes Emma’s eyes when she looks back at Regina, “I have to perform my civic duty, I am the mayor after all.”

 

Emma smiles weakly. Her eyes flicker around towards Killian who is standing by the toy guns and cans, his sneer visible from miles away. She shouldn’t want to antagonise him, either, but she’s kissed plenty of people all day and so far, he’d leered and made comments about how _hot_ it was that had had her fists clenching and begging to be launched into his face.

 

Regina’s still shuffling when she looks back at her, and she swallows thickly, the mask slipping for a second, and for that same second Emma believes that maybe… there’s _more_ to it than just her desire to understand _._ Her heart hammers for every millimetre they gravitate towards each other. “Regina,” she whispers, moments before she gently presses her lips to Emma’s.

 

Her eyes slam shut, and she presses back harder against those soft lips that don’t pull away, not right away like everyone else politely had. They’re still there when Emma sighs, parting her lips slightly then closing them again. Regina hums, relaxing into the kiss until a little jolt of electricity makes them jump apart. A flush grows up Regina’s neck when their eyes set into each other. She lightly places her fingers over her lips, frowning and Emma’s mind flashes with a dream she’d had months ago.

 

Her eyes are pained as the reminiscence of _that_ dream crashes into her mind. She had only seen the eyes, had never known it was Regina in the red cloak, had never made the connection to those dark eyes startling as Regina had pressed her fingers to her trembling lips and stumbled backwards over the grass. Her black attire had transformed to white, the tight bun of hair loosening and falling to her shoulders, and those eyes had been pained and haunted.

 

The soft trails of magic that had spread between their lips dwindled. Regina’s head had shaken, and she wafted her hands, disappearing in a cloud of purple smoke. The heaviness had settled within her chest and intensifies when Emma’s mind finally focuses on the present.

 

She swallows down the sting in her eyes and searches through the crowd, but when one of the parents comes along she forces the smile not to wobble. She notices Killian, smirking smugly and walking around with his shoulders pushed back. When he disappears out of sight Emma can’t say she’s not relieved.

 

Her shift finally comes to an end, but her lips still tingle. Unable to stop thinking about that kiss she stalks back over to where David is manning one of the gaming booths. Killian had given up on winning the giant bear, leaving her to fend for herself, but it gives her a good distraction. Especially after multiple failed attempts.

 

Emma tenses her arm, raises it behind her shoulder then launches the ball at the stack of cans. Some tumble to the ground, but David smiles apologetically, “Sorry, Emma. You need to knock them all off if you want to win.”

 

She hands over another few dollars and receives a few more tries in return. He wishes her luck then walks to the other side of the booth where a kid is lined up for a game. She misses the first two, then has the third ball in her hand when a familiar woman saddles up by her side. “You need to aim for bottom.”

 

Emma throws the ball with a grunt, but it only knocks two cans off the top. “I’ll never win.” She turns to Regina, hands shoved in her jacket pockets and smiles tightly. “All I want is a stupid bear.” She kicks her foot along the ground, shoulders slumped and sighs deeply.

 

“Surely the kissing booth wasn’t _that_ bad?” Regina teases, waving her hand until David walks back over. They exchange money and a few small tennis balls. She raises a brow at Emma with them cradled to her chest.

 

“I’m just confused,” she mutters, keeping her gaze firmly away from Regina’s lips. The kiss had made her mind spin, collapse and caused her body to tingle all over. A wave of butterflies hits her stomach every time she thinks of it.

 

Regina turns to the cans and throws the balls, rolling her eyes when her attempt is less successful than Emma’s. “Surely you can do better than that,” David says, easily goading more money from the woman. This time Regina uses her shots and knocks off all the cans, flashing him a bright smile.

 

“I’ll take the bear.” Emma pouts extra hard when that giant thing is in Regina’s grip, but then the brunette faces her and shoves it against her chest, “Here you go, Emma, stop pouting”

 

Emma squeezes her arms around the stuffed animal, smiling goofily, “Thanks.” She holds Regina’s gaze, half wishing she could tighten her arms around her instead.

 

Regina nods, “Henry wanted me to ask if you’re available to come over tonight after the fair.” Her face looks mildly hopeful. Emma squeezes the stuffed animal a little harder.

 

“Only if I can bring my bear.” Regina rolls her eyes and Emma chuckles, then she hesitates for a moment as if debating whether she should be acting in certain ways, then links her arm through Emma’s, dragging her around the town fair until they can find Henry.

 

She sends Killian a quick text and it turns out he’s still with David. They’re planning to have a ‘men’s only night’ whatever that means. Emma doesn’t ask.

 

The three of them grab a burger as the town fair is coming to an end. Emma doesn’t take her eyes from Regina as she takes giant bites into it and the ketchup splodges down her chin. “What?” Regina asks, head tipped to the side to accommodate another bite.

 

“You got a little…” she swipes her thumb along the ketchup and their eyes connect. Regina’s mouth stays parted where she was about to take a bite, holding Emma’s gaze. Regina’s throat bobs, the burger lowering away from her mouth. A blush grows on Emma’s cheeks and she smiles sheepishly. Henry rolls his eyes at them, but otherwise turns his head to look at anything else. 

 

The spell is broken temporarily when they’re summoned to clean up and ignites again when Emma can retrieve her bear that Henry had been taking care of. “ _Child,”_ Regina says, and smiles affectionately, “come on, let’s head home.”

 

The three of them walk to the mansion, the heaviness that had settled on Emma’s chest lightening with the two of them by her side. “I do love how you’ve kept the flamingos,” Emma jokes, nudging her hip against Regina’s. The smile she receives takes her breath away, and she does it again as the gate squeaks open and Henry walks into the garden. One that is washed in bright flowers, juicy apples and all around filled with life.


	5. Chapter 5

_4 months into the curse_

 

It had rained for the last three days leading up to this camping trip, and Emma had sulked in her house and complained to Mary Margaret and spent the night before wishing that the weather would be nice. She’s slightly stunned on the way to the mansion –  to collect Henry (and a one unsuspecting Madame mayor), that there’s blue skies, sun and even a rainbow. 

 

Henry greets her at the door, still in his pyjamas and yawns then gives her a lopsided smirk, “it was nice knowing you.” Emma playfully shoves at his shoulder, and the pair wave their hands and throw fake punches, and Emma has the kid in a loose head lock, rubbing her knuckles along his head when they stumble into the kitchen.

 

Regina huffs, “You’re an overgrown child,” then lowers her mug with a frown. “Emma? What are you…you’re not supposed to be here for another two hours.” Emma shrugs sheepishly, hands in the pockets of her jeans and offers wonky smile. One that’s reciprocated before Regina grabs a few more eggs and begins to mix them, “I’m presuming you’ll want pancakes.”

 

Henry raises his eyebrows at Emma, moving away with his hands lifted in surrender. She rolls her eye. “I’m not going to say no to pancakes.” Regina pushes some hair behind her ear with her eyes downcast towards the pan, a little smirk on her lips. “Especially to yours,” she adds, and the smile grows. Emma’s teeth dig into her bottom lip, bouncing on her heels and wonders how she could make that happen again.

 

They’re sat around the dining room table, Regina still in her silk robe, eating breakfast, drinking coffee and making small talk. When Regina’s eyes meet hers from across the table Emma’s stomach tightens. “What exactly are you doing here so early?”

 

Emma shrugs one shoulder, “Wanted to make sure you were both ready on time.” Regina nods, and Emma shovels the rest of the pancakes into her mouth in quick succession. Henry glances between them, slowly lowering his glass of orange juice.

 

Regina’s fork clangs to the plate, “Both of us?”

 

“Yeah-” Emma plasters on a neutral expression and runs over the saddest things she can think about to keep it that way. If not she’d be on the floor in stitches with her head rolling in the opposite direction.

 

Regina narrows her eyes, “Why would I need to be ready?” The last and biggest piece of pancake is promptly shoved past Emma’s lips. Regina purses her lips then looks to her son who shrugs and lowers his eyes. “Miss Swan?”

 

“Hmm?” Emma swallows thickly, “You signed up to be a chaperone.”

 

“I did no such thing.”

 

Emma presses her lips together and reaches for her coffee, taking a rather large gulp before attempting to make eye contact. “Yeah, you did,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek when she lifts her eyes. “Mary Margaret went over the list with me.”

 

Regina stiffens, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips. “I’m going to murder you,” she hisses, “for real this time.” Emma swallows down her laugh, stool squeaking along the tiled floor when she stands. “And you-” her head snaps to Henry, who slides from the stool and stumbles backwards.

 

“I had nothing to do with it!” but his smirk gives him away, and he yelps when a piece of pancake is thrown at his head. He sighs overdramatically, “Really?” He places a flat palm against his chest. “Your own son.”

 

“My traitorous own son.” She stalks around the table towards Emma who shuffles backwards in time with the steps. “And _you,”_ she sneers, but there’s a little smile playing on her lips that has Emma’s heart beating erratically. The promise of death in her eyes tells her to run and hide, yet her feet stay planted, ready for whatever Regina throws at her head. “You really thought you were going to get away with this? There’s no way in hell I’m going on this camping trip.” Will the other parents even want her there? She’s flattered Emma and Henry want her there, but is this really a good idea?

 

“But moooom,” Henry groans, “if there’s not enough chaperones it’ll get cancelled.”

 

Regina pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes closing and takes a deep breath. Emma and Henry glance at each other, co-conspirators about to face their doom. “He’s sort of right,” Emma says, “can’t let the kids down.”

 

“And your own son! I’ve been excited about this for weeks, mom. Please?”

 

Emma wants to high five the kid, because there’s no way Regina will let him down. Those dark eyes open slowly, followed by an evil smirk, 3, 2, 1 “ _Run._ ”

 

The pair glance at each other one final time before a wave of giddiness runs through Emma’s veins. She squeal, spins, and they take off in opposite directions. The tiles squeak and their anxious laughter bubbles to the surface as they take cover. Regina takes a breath before casually strolling through the house in search of her victims. Emma pokes her head out from behind the couch the moment Regina and her uptight posture makes her way into the room. Instead of ducking, however, Emma marvels at how utterly stunning she looks even without make-up, with bed hair and in her night clothes.

 

She’s _breathtaking,_ quite literally, because Emma forgets to breathe when Regina arches a brow and moves towards her. Emma squeals, dives up from behind the couch and runs across the room. But Regina dives in front of her and Emma yelps, turns but is halted in place by arms to wrapping around her from behind. Nimble fingers attack her sides, and she jerks and laughs and squirms in Regina’s arms.

 

Emma’s shirt pushes upwards as Regina’s hand snakes beneath it, finding the exact spot that has Emma giggling and jamming her elbows behind her. “R-Regina!” she laughs, hair spilling over her face as Regina’s front presses against her back, the onslaught of tickles not coming to an end. “Mercy!”

 

“I’ll give you mercy,” she mutters, fingers crawling up towards her ribs. She lets out a wail between fits of laughter, the touch a mixture of heaven and pure torture. Then she’s wailing for real when her foot skids on the ground. Her arms flail, and she twists slightly, grabbing Regina’s wrists as the tumbles onto the couch.

 

They end up in a heap, Regina on top of her sprawled body, them both panting hard and sobering as their eyes meet. “That was uncalled for,” Emma says, cheeks tinted red, a lopsided grin growing when she wraps her arms around Regina’s back and she doesn’t instantly pull away. The mayor’s leg might be awkwardly flopped over her lap whilst her other foot is pressed to the ground, but she smiles down at Emma with her laboured chest and shrugs.

 

Her cheeks are rosy too, and its adorable enough thoughts of pecking them rise in Emma’s mind. “It was completely called for, Sheriff.”

 

Emma’s nose wrinkles, “Sheriff?”

 

Regina frowns, hands flat on either side of Emma’s head. “I don’t know where that came from.”

 

“Mom?” They twist their head towards the light footsteps. Emma lets her arms fall from around Regina’s waist, allowing her to sit up and tug on her dressing gown. “What were you guys doing?”

 

“Be thankful you weren’t the one getting attacked.” Emma pushes onto her elbows and pouts at the mayor. The eye roll she gets in return has her openly smiling. It’s highly disappointing when Regina pushes from on top of her, but it’s short lived when she reaches an arm out. She grabs onto Regina’s hand before she’s yanked back to her feet.

 

“It’s what you deserved,” Regina says, widening her eyes for emphasis. Their hands stay connected by their bodies before they awkwardly let go. Regina spins and stalks towards her son. “As for you…” he turns and runs out of the room, only encouraging her to pick up her pace to find that traitorous son.

 

“Good luck, kid,” Emma shouts, earning her a quick smirk thrown over Regina’s shoulder before she follows after her son’s laughter.

 

* * *

 

Regina’s playful for the rest of the morning, throwing a pair of socks at Emma’s head when she’s packing and grinning when Emma rubs her head with a pout. “You’re mean,” she protests, but Regina simply shrugs and continues packing.

 

“Moooom!” Henry calls from the kitchen. Regina looks smug whilst Emma eyes her suspiciously. Henry comes into the room guzzling water, a wet patch on his shirt. “That wasn’t cool.”

 

“What did you do?” Emma’s only reply is a chuckle and Henry slapping his free arm against his leg.

 

“She put salt in my drink-” he tips his head back, squirting the fresh bottle of water into his mouth. Regina doesn’t so much as blink other than to increase the satisfied smug look she’s got going on. Emma bites her bottom lip, willing herself not to laugh when he storms out the room muttering to himself.

 

Regina dives into the car first before a click sounds. Emma tugs on the door handle, and again whilst Henry does the same. Regina smirks then glances between the pair. “You can both walk,” she says, and twists the key until the engine roars.

 

Emma flops her arms, “Oh, come on! All our stuff is packed in your car.”

 

Henry flops his head against the window as Regina chuckles and hits the switch. The two doors fly open, and they slide in with huffs and grunts, and Emma just knows that Regina is going to make this entire weekend hell for them both…which, well, she should have foreseen. 

 

By the time they get to the school Regina’s body stiffens, and she doesn’t speak much to either of them as they unload their things. They make it inside without incident, and Emma beams as Mary Margaret comes over to them. “Morning!” she exclaims, then quickly runs them through what’s about to happen; they’ll get their tent assignments, their assignments for the evening and morning and well, to simply have fun and watch the kids.

 

The rest of the chaperones and kids filter into the hall, all grouping to one side of the room. Henry leaves the pair at some point to find his friends, and Emma ends up talking to Ashley once they find out they’ll be attempting to make lunch for everyone. It’s only when she twists her head and Regina is stood with a good few feet between her and the group, arms wrapped around her middle that she frowns and makes her way back over. “Ready to go?”

 

She nods tightly, bleakly following everyone as they make their way into the woods. They’re at the back of the group, encouraging stragglers to stay with their assigned partners and to make sure they don’t lose anyone. Not that the woods are particularly big, but still, they don’t want a child wandering off alone. She looks up to them, watching as the children chatter amongst themselves and vibrate with excitement.

 

Once they’re alone and at a small distance from the group Regina’s eyes sparkle with fury as she threatens untold things. The threats fly straight over Emma’s head, who laughs and teases and nudges her side, “I thought you might have worn heels.”

 

Regina pauses, tugging at the bottom of her shirt. “Henry talked me out of it,” she mutters, beginning the traitorous walk again.

 

Emma snorts, “Seriously?” and when there’s a smirk flashed her way, her body relaxes with an easy smile.

 

“There’s going to be hell to pay,” Regina says through gritted teeth. “If I don’t strangle you in your sleep first.” A slow vicious smile spreads on her face. “Perhaps our tent assignment isn’t so bad after all.” The slow arch of her brow and the fire in her eyes sets Emma’s heart to racing. Her throat grows hoarse, and she can’t seem to do much else than try to keep her breathing under control.

 

Then the tips of Regina’s fingers brush her hand. Emma smiles awkwardly, “You really shouldn’t threaten to kill me in front of the children.”

 

“You were the one who signed me up for this damn camping trip.” When Emma shrugs sheepishly, Regina hums and swaggers her hips with an extra flare, “I’ll have my revenge, dear.” The drop in her voice sends a shiver through Emma’s body despite the warm temperatures. She has a feeling that sleeping will be impossible knowing Regina is laying two feet away from her, and isn’t that revenge enough?

 

She twiddles with her engagement ring and takes a calming breath as they approach the clearing where they’ll be setting up camp. A few parents and teachers smile at Emma, say good morning Regina hovers by her side without saying a word. Had she not requested to be paired up with Regina, would the mayor have had other options? After putting up a few tents Emma goes over to where Regina is attempting to put up theirs.

 

She places a hand on Regina’s shoulder, and the woman jumps, eyes startling and whips her head around. She deflates at the sight of Emma. “Sorry, just came to see how you were doing.”

 

“Fabulously.”

 

She turns away, struggling with the tent without saying another word. Her arms itch to wrap around her, but instead she squeezes her hand. “You suck at this.”

 

“I’ll admit it’s not my forte.” There’s a tiny smile before Regina turns her attention back to the tent and Emma lets her hand slip away.

 

Emma grabs some of the poles and starts shoving them together, “And here I was thinking you could do everything. It’s nice to know you have flaws like the rest of us.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes, “I’m simply choosing not to waste my time learning how to put this together. Not when I have someone else willing to do it for me.” A lazy smirk grows and she attempts to wink.

 

“Sounds about right,” one of the parents mutters as they walk by them. Is that the town mechanic?

 

Regina’s flinches. She keeps her eyes downcast, pursing her lips. “We need to get this finished,” she snaps, “I don’t plan on sleeping in the open.”

 

The fingers around the pole clench until Emma’s knuckles whiten, but she counts to ten and deepens her breathing for each second. Once that tone no longer stings she finishes up then crawls inside with Regina. They squish on the air mattress and Emma wiggles her hips on it, giggling. Regina smiles tightly, gaze firmly on her lap.

 

“Are they always like that?” Emma asks, receiving a non-committal shrug. It’s enough of an answer that Emma wants to go out there and make those idiots apologise, but she can’t be blamed for ruining the vibe of the trip. Not when the blame will surely bounce back to the mayor.

 

Regina’s fingers wring together, back hunched over so the tip of her head brushes along the top of the tent. “I’m not exactly their favourite person,” she says matter of fact, but Emma can detect the slight wobble in her tone. The way her eyes are glassy when she finally makes eye contact and forces a smile. “Not that I care much about what anyone thinks.” 

 

“But why do they?” Emma glances at the mayor, biting her lip and shuffles so their sides are touching.

 

Regina lets out a ragged breath, “It’s the way things are.”

 

Perhaps if she had her memories she would understand, and she does suppose Regina is uptight and snarls and snaps, but to _actually_ hate her…then Regina’s head is on her shoulder, her eyes closed, and Emma watches her, thoughts filtering away, contemplating wrapping an arm around her waist. She sighs, “I just thought it would be fun, you know? Make you a little mad, but in the end we’d have a good time. I didn’t mean-”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

She lifts her head and the weight leaving her shoulder is disappointing, but there’s a softness surrounding her eyes that seems to grow with every interaction. As if it has always been there, hiding beneath layers and layers of sarcasm, and in sudden moments it floats to the surface. Emma is beginning to like bringing up this side of her as much as she enjoys making her head explode.

 

“Ready to get out there and show them how to have a good time?” Emma bumps Regina’s shoulder and the little smirk she gets in return is _everything._

 

* * *

 

The adults have set up tents on the outside of the children’s, a fair distance away, but not too far in case they’re needed. It doesn’t stop the muttered chatter and hushed laughs from reaching them, however, and Emma doesn’t mind them all that much, afraid of her own dreams and what the night might bring.

 

“Hey, look, I’m sorry about this. I didn’t realise-”

 

Regina sighs, “You weren’t to know, Emma.”

 

The air mattress squeaks when she rolls over onto her side, wiggling around like a mermaid to get comfortable. Her head lowers slowly, hair tickling Emma’s nose when she shuffles a little more, and when she sweeps the hair from beneath her, Emma might be a tiny bit disappointed.

 

Emma takes a deep breath, then blows it out through her nose. “It’s their loss,” she mutters, the sleeping bag rustling against the mattress until her knees are closer to her chest. “I’m glad I get you all to myself.”

 

“You are?”

 

She nods, getting comfortable on her side, the silhouette of Regina close by. “Yeah-” she bites her lip, “wanna play a game?”

 

Regina rolls onto her side until she’s facing Emma, no doubt arching a brow. “A game? Don’t you want to sleep?”

 

“Not tired.”

 

“You sound like one of the children, which is hardly surprising.”

 

Emma chuckles, tucking her arms against her chest. “I’ve been having these dreams. I just…I don’t want to have one tonight.” She glances up at Regina even though she’s unable to read her facial expression when it’s cast in darkness. “Sometimes I dream about you,” she admits quietly, the darkness unable to hide the soft gasp. Emma realises _exactly_ how that sounds, but she takes a deep breath instead of immediately amending the statement.

 

It’s not as if she hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about Regina or hadn’t text Mary Margaret freaking out over the kiss they had shared at the booth or occasionally had imagined what it would be like if she had gone to the mansion and never left. But setting it free doesn’t mean it would be without consequence. “Not just you,” she amends with an awkward chuckle, “most people from the town. They’re crazy though.”

 

“That’s hardly surprising.” The quip lacks the sharp edges Emma had almost grown fond of, but there’s a shuddered breath that follows and Regina’s throat bobs, “I would very much rather you not dream about me.”

 

Emma blinks for a moment before understanding that she means _literally_ and not _figuratively_ and she’s not sure how to take it. “You…want me to control my dreams?” Emma snorts, because there’s the mayor being petty and then there’s… “are you serious?”

 

Regina grips onto her sleeping bag and pulls it closer, a brief smile appearing before it’s wiped clean. “Of course. It’s not polite to dream about someone without their permission.”

 

At that Emma rolls her eyes and grins. “Unless you secretly wear insane dresses and can make literal magic shoot from your fingertips then you’re safe.” She flops onto her back with a sigh, not knowing why she had brought them up when all she really wanted was a distraction from them, but with Regina it’s easier somehow. There’s less pressure surrounding them, there’s a connection, an effortless one, making it easier to let her pain be known. 

 

“Tight dresses and magic fingers?” she purrs, voice far from innocent. Emma gulps, the easiness morphing and shifting into the pit of her stomach. Her head falls to the side on a sigh. “Sounds suspiciously like a sex dream, dear. Highly inappropriate.”

 

“No. I’m…” being serious, but should she be? Regina was the one who had started this, so…“Those dresses do show an awful amount of cleavage, you know?” She chuckles when Regina goes still as if she’s giving Emma an ‘I’m not impressed’ look, only making the younger woman giggle, “It’s not as if you’re blouses completely covered you up.”

 

“And you enjoy looking at them?” she asks over suggestively, a high-pitched tone that has Emma backed into a corner she isn’t sure she wants to leave. Then she deflates, shrugging and lowering her eyes. “Emma?” she asks after a minute of silence, “Are you alright?”

 

When all Emma does is sigh heavily, burdened by feelings she cannot understand, Regina moves herself closer so that the tip of her nose brushes softly against Emma’s. With her eyes closed and warm breath spreading over her lips, she’s unable to stop the little smile and calming breath she elicited, or the way she nuzzles her nose just the tiniest bit.

 

A slight weight overcomes her body with every breath she takes. There’s no fear about falling asleep like this, not with the calmness Regina brings, but there’s so much she wants to ask her, so much she doesn’t have the courage to. That feeling tilts on its axis when soft fingers travel along her cheek, run along her jaw line then follow the dip in her chin until a slight pressure presses against her lower lip.

 

Emma’s eyes flutter open, and she fights every instinct demanding she puckers her lips and kisses the tip of Regina’s finger. It moves back up the side of her face with their eyes locked, tangling in a few strands of blonde hair. The tips of Regina’s fingers caresses along the sensitive skin as her hair is tucked behind her ear.

 

“I’m confused,” Emma whispers, goose bumps growing along the paths Regina is making and as the urge to close the distance is beating wildly in her chest. She doesn’t remember feeling this way around anyone, and for it to happen around someone she apparently hated in the past makes less sense by the second, but her thrumming chest and curling toes and the needy little whimper that escapes her throat shuts down all her bothersome doubts.

 

“About?” Regina asks, softly, those gentle fingers mapping and tracing as if this is the only chance she’ll ever get to be this close, this intimate, this…

 

“ _You_.”

 

Regina sucks in a breath, voice a little hoarse when she replies, “How so?” and her breath shudders next, blowing against Emma’s slightly parted lips.

 

“I thought that my feelings were tied to my memories, I didn’t feel anything because I…”

 

“Didn’t remember?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And now?” she asks, a slightly lilt to her voice. Her hand gently resting on Emma’s shoulder over the sleeping bag, her thumb stroking against the dip in her neck.

 

“Nothing makes sense.”

 

Regina nods softly, hums then tilts her head until their foreheads touch in way that links them in understanding. Emma’s breathing shallows when the sleeping bag rustles and the air mattress squeaks, her eyes following the shadow that moves in the dark. She doesn’t take her eyes away from the body that hovers above her own.

 

“Perhaps this will help” Regina says softly, placing a hand on Emma’s hip over the sleeping bag. It slides up her side slowly, causing a slow throb all over and a weight in her stomach, as her hand moves to cup her cheek.

 

Her toes wiggle, and her mind goes blank. “Can’t hurt,” she mutters, then cringes, but the dark chuckle floats around the tent before that delicious body lowers until about half of Regina is pressed against her. It takes everything within Emma not to lift her hips or grab onto Regina; to wrap around her so completely that nothing feels wrong ever again.

 

The shadow moves closer, like a promise, and Emma’s breathless by the time lips gently press against her own. Her eyes flutter closed and Regina’s thumb brushes along her cheek whilst her lips press down in a surprisingly sweet kiss. The tenderness only lasts a few seconds before plump lips press down firmer. Emma moans softly, her entire body vibrating with desire and a need to be consumed.

 

Their lips part and Emma’s eyes open as Regina slowly retreats, but Emma is not about to let her retreat again, so she lifts her hand and wraps it around the back of Regina’s neck, gently guiding her down until their mouths meet again. There’s no hesitation when the kiss turns heated, open mouthed, and Emma moans quietly as Regina sighs into her mouth. Her fingers tangled in Regina’s hair, gently tugging to encourage her to stay put, to keep on kissing until she’s dizzy from it and can’t think about anything other than the dance their lips are engaging in.

 

Emma’s other hand scrunches in Regina’s top, resulting in a soft moan from the mayor. Emma tips her head upwards to get _more,_ to feel more, but then the pressure leaves and Regina’s pulling herself away. She whimpers, desperately wanting her to stay there. Her hands falling to Regina’s sides, caressing up and down when she hovers over her.

 

Regina gently runs her knuckles down Emma’s cheek and even within the darkness, the intensity of her gaze shines through. Emma raises her hand and gently slides her fingers through the gap between Regina’s palm and curled fingers, the ring brushing across Regina’s hand. Her gaze falls from Emma’s eyes to the offending object before she slowly retreats her hand. “Get some rest, Miss Swan,” she says, before the weight of her body leaves her and she slides back into her own sleeping bag, leaving Emma laying with a heart that’s beating so hard it might just drum through her chest.

 

“Night,” she says, a little breathlessly, curling up onto her side and facing the mayor. She twiddles with the ring, heart thrumming louder and louder, but Regina has her back to her, so all Emma can do is keep her eyes on the woman until they flutter closed, and confusing thoughts disappear at the tranquillity she feels when hearing Regina’s even breathing near her.


	6. Chapter 6

_Four months, 12 days into the curse_

**So I researched lesbians** Emma types then sends the message to Mary Margaret. She has been oddly helpful these last few days, what with the way Emma randomly sends her a message every time she’s freaking out over the kiss. The one time she’d asked her at school she had been a little more skittish but continued with the idea of following her heart.

 

Emma’s not sure a kiss qualifies as feelings, except for the tingle it sends between her legs. She clears her throat and shuffles, anxious for the reply.

 

**Did that clear up your confusion? x**

Emma bites her lip, sprawled on her bed with the laptop by her side. The button of her jeans is still popped open, because, well… **I sort of came across a lot of porn.**

**And? Did you like watching?**

**Yeah…** Emma blushes despite no one else being in the room. She’s a little surprised Mary Margaret isn’t the one blushing and hiding behind a pillow. She had expected her to be a bit queasier when it came to such topics, but Emma can’t complain, not when it means she has someone to talk to about this.

**Did you touch yourself?!**

**MARY MARGARET!!**

Okay, she hadn’t expected her to be _that_ open, but she supposes they are grown women.

 

**Emma, it’s perfectly natural.**

**Well…yeah.**

The blush only grows deeper, and she grabs a pillow and groans into it when Mary Margaret sends a winky face. It’s a bit disconcerting but makes her chuckle.

 

**Just so you know, I fully support you being a lesbian.**

**Erm…thanks, but I’m still not sure.**

Emma falls back onto the bed and sighs. It was one kiss, well two, that shouldn’t mean all that much. Yet here she is spilling her guts to a woman she has only known for a few months and ready to carve E+R in hearts on all the trees in town. She supposes it’s time to find some proper information, promptly closing down the porn tabs and buttoning up her jeans.

 

Emma blows out a breath of relief when the bedroom door opens and Killian staggers in, because she’s sat propped up on the bed with her jeans buttoned up and there’s no incriminating evidence on her laptop. “Everything alright, love?” He gives her a smirk, the bed dipping with his weight.

 

“Hmm-mm-” she smiles tightly, wiggling at the hand that lowers to her thigh and closes the tabs. She’d found some useful information in the end; on real things and different sexualities – maybe she likes men _and_ women, or maybe it’s about the person and not their gender at all, or perhaps her sexual attraction comes with feelings and if she had fallen for him in the past then perhaps they would develop over time. But then her mind wanders to Regina, and her sweaty palms and racing heart and maybe she doesn’t need feelings to feel attraction at all.

 

She lifts her eyes to meet his, “Did I ever mention who I dated before we met?”

 

His jaw clenches, but he relaxes when Emma is still looking at him curiously. “I suspect you didn’t have a relationship like ours. Just companions to warm your bed at night.”

 

Emma lowers the top of the laptop then places it to one side, “So I erm-” a piece of hair wraps around her finger, and she bites her lip and wills herself to just _ask._ She’s spoken to Mary Margaret about this stuff. Surely, she should be able to ask the man she had agreed to marry. “I’ve slept with a lot of people?”

 

He dips his eyes to her torso then lifts them slowly with a smirk, “Ay, I can help you remember-” his hand roams up her thigh and she keeps her eyes on it, aware of the way her body reacts and how her chest tightens a little.

 

“We could kiss,” she says, flickering her eyes between the hand resting near the top of her thigh to his lips then his eyes. His pupils dilate, and she wonders if her own look like that too. His smirk widens. She wiggles herself down the bed, curled hair spreading out over the pillow when he moves so he’s hovered above her.

 

“At least it’s a start, Swan,” he says, altering himself so their legs press against each other and his elbows are on either side of her head. Her smile is weak, arms resting by her sides as he lowers himself so their bodies press together.

 

He presses his lips to the dip in her neck, and maybe… _maybe_ there’s a throb increasing where she guesses she should be feeling it, and she wiggles a little and licks her lips, and she kind of likes the way there’s pressure on her chest and she thinks about them being touched and likes that idea, but –

_There’s always a but –_

The weight of his body alters and the button on his jeans digs into her stomach, and she grunts and the lips on her neck spread because perhaps it sounded like a moan. She tries to shift her focus to the lips on her neck, but… is that supposed to be nice? The stumble on his chin bristles against her skin and she grimaces, applying light pressure on his shoulder until he lifts his upper body upwards.

 

Regina had felt so comforting on top of her, so soft, and she’d wanted to touch and touch and touch. She meets his gaze and doesn’t stop him when he tips his head forwards, but her arms remain by her sides, hesitant to lift and go near him. They’d shared pecks in the past, and on occasion she’d let him kiss her for longer, but when he presses his lips down she decides to meet his lips and push back against them, and even open her mouth, but the moment his tongue flicks her lower lip her face scrunches and her hand is back on his shoulder.

 

“Killian…”

 

“I can get you going,” he says with a smug look as if she isn’t lying there stiff as a board. Honestly, she’s sort of bored, and there is the tiniest of a clench in her stomach (the good kind), and there’s a small throb growing, and she can see why she would have continued if she hadn’t thought about women in this way, and she imagines it would be nice to be touched, but –

 

Not by him, and she isn’t curious enough to find out if she would like it or not.

 

Her head shakes, and he sighs deeply, rolling off her overdramatically as if he’s been gravely wounded. “You shouldn’t lead a man on like that,” he says, and she swings her legs off the bed at lightning speed and narrows her eyes at him.

 

“I didn’t lead you on. I changed my mind!” and perhaps she should feel guilty for having kissed someone who isn’t him, and sort of experimenting, but she doesn’t remember choosing to be with him, and if it wasn’t _her_ choice then why should she feel bad about not wanting to stick with it? He looks to her incredulously, but she shakes her head, “I’m going for a run,” before he can say anything else. 

 

* * *

 

Emma hovers outside Henry’s classroom when the big day finally arrives. He’s worked so hard for this make-up test, and she only wants him to succeed. When he emerges, walking down the hallway amongst the other students, he smiles and wafts the test in the air. A slow smile spreads on Emma’s face, and she’s ready to throw a parade for the kid.

 

“I got a B,” he says, boasting his chest out with a grin.

 

“Kid! That’s amazing.” They high five as Mary Margaret walks past them, and Emma waves to get her attention. “He got a B!” she exclaims, grips Henry’s shoulder and shakes it slightly. He chuckles and crosses his arms.

 

“Congratulations,” she says, offering them both sincere smiles before continuing down the hall.

 

When she looks back to Henry the excitement fizzles and her expression drops. “I guess you won’t be needing a tutor anymore, huh?” she asks, lightly bumping his shoulder with a smile that waivers.

 

“Probably not-” he shrugs, and the casual dismissal plants a rock in her stomach. “But mom says if I passed I had to invite you for a celebratory dinner.”

 

Emma’s eyes widen, “She did?” and the fluttering in her chest has her looking to Henry and blurting, “Regina hates me,” to less than smoothly cover her tracks.

 

Henry rolls his eyes, “She _used_ to hate you.”  Emma raises her eyebrows, wondering if Regina talks about her at all and if he knows how she really feels. The morning after the camping trip had been a little awkward. Regina had smiled politely, and Emma had blushed. Then, _conveniently_ Regina had had to work late during their final tutoring sessions and she’d been dying to just call her. “What? You guys were always fighting over one thing or another. But when was the last time you _really_ fought?”

 

Apart from the pranks, Emma doesn’t know when. “I suppose we put in on hold,” for _your_ sake, she doesn’t add, (at least to begin with), but the cocky smirk tells her she doesn’t have to.

 

“Exactly.” He beams, bouncing on his heels. “And you’re coming to dinner tonight.”

 

She winks, “As long as there’s desert,” then twiddles with her engagement ring, contemplating whether she should throw it out. She needs to talk to Killian. She needs to talk to Regina. But then Henry is there and for a moment all she needs to focus on is him. “I really am proud of you.”

 

“Thanks, Emma. For all the help, I wouldn’t have passed without you.”

 

“Anytime, kid.” She ruffles his hair, when what she really wants to do is hug him, but she keeps her distance and reminds herself about boundaries.

 

“Considering you won’t be tutoring me anymore,” he begins, kicking Emma in the teeth. She swallows and forces a neutral expression. “On the days you normally would have been, maybe we could go to Granny’s or something?”

 

A genuine warmth spreads in her chest. He still wants to spend time with her? “I’d have to ask your mom, but I’d like that.”

 

“Erm-” he kicks his foot along the floor, “Mom sort of forbid me from going to Granny’s since the chair incident.”

 

Emma tips her head back and laughs, “I’m sorry kid,” but she doesn’t sound it at all. “Your mom is the most irrational woman I’ve ever come across.” Perhaps it had irritated her before the accident, but now, well, being the cause of said irritation has proven to be her greatest source of entertainment. “Don’t worry, I’ll ask her.”

 

“Good.”

 

It causes Emma’s eyes to soften. She’ll still get to spend time with this amazing kid _and_ annoy Regina in the process.

 

“I’m meeting my friends,” he says, “So, I’ll see you later.”

 

“Later?”

 

“For dinner.”

 

“Oh, right, yeah,” she smiles happily, “see you later, kid.” She waves him off before _later_ makes her gasp slightly. She heads straight for Mary Margaret’s classroom, hovering at the door.

 

Mary Margaret looks up from her desk, eyebrows rising. “Everything okay?” she asks, standing as Emma approaches the desk.

 

She bites her lip, head twisting over her shoulder to make sure no one else is listening. “I need more advice,” she says, because Regina had been avoiding her she’s sure, but now she has an invitation and she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to think about it all.  Mary Margaret frowns, and Emma wants to groan about spelling this out. “About…you know, what happened at camping and that I might be a lesbian.”

 

“Well, if that’s who you are.” Mary Margaret shrugs with a gentle smile as if she had told her she’d realised her favourite food was pizza and not pasta after all. Like it’s no big deal. Emma doesn’t understand why it feels as if the ground is wobbling beneath her feet and she wants to curl into a ball and cry and hug Mary Margaret until the ground stops shaking.

 

She blinks back tears, and a gentle hand finds her arm, “Have you been worried that it would bother me?” Emma nods quickly. She doesn’t remember being worried, but now it feels as if she has been this entire time and the world is righting itself just a little bit. “Oh honey, you must know that I’m a hopeless romantic by now.”

 

“Yeah-” she chuckles wetly, “I suppose I should have known.”

 

“So…have you broken things off with Killian, then? Should I be expecting to hear about a new woman in your life sometime soon?” 

 

Emma shrugs and tugs at the bottom of her shirt. “Nothing that I haven’t already told you about.”

 

“Emma, I’m…” her head shakes on a slight chuckle, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

 

Emma opens her mouth to explain, promptly slamming it shut when she doesn’t want to explain the text messages about porn. “You know, the texts? We’ve been texting,” Emma explains, “about…the kiss?” When that frown only deepens Emma pulls her phone out with a sinking in her stomach. Either Mary Margaret was playing a cruel prank or…

 

Her eyes widen when she taps call on Mary Margaret’s number. The smaller woman continues to pack up her things whilst looking quizzically at Emma. The dial tone begins, but Mary Margaret’s phone rests on top of her desk, unchanged.

 

The phone is answered with a slight chuckle of, “Miss Swan,” and Emma wants to bury herself within a hole and never come out. “Did you have any more questions about lesbians?”

 

 _No._ No. No. No. No. No.

 

Emma’s face flushes then drains in colour. Mary Margaret moves towards her, “Is everything alright?” but all she can manage is a tight nod. Regina had not been avoiding her, and she wants to dig her own grave.

 

Her wide eyes connect with Mary Margaret’s for a moment before she squeezes them shut. This had better be one of her insane dreams, because if it had been Regina on the other end this entire time then she’ll never be able to face her ever again.

 

“Are you still there, Miss Swan?” she asks, and Emma sways in place. “I would so love to hear more about our kiss and how you can simply not stop thinking about it.”

 

Emma swallows hard, “Erm…h-how?”

 

“I swiped your phone after you put those damn flamingos on my lawn and setting alarms was not the only thing I did.” There’s satisfaction in her voice, smugness, and Emma pictures the smirk to accompany it. “I _did_ warn you not to go up against me.”

 

Emma’s mouth hangs open, any words getting lost in the rumble in her throat. Mary Margaret gently places a hand on her arm, squeezing and it somehow keeps her grounded. She had been growing complacent with soft Regina, it seems.

 

“I do have one piece of advice though, dear,” she says, “if you like kissing women, or well…a certain woman in _particular_.” Emma’s stomach does a flip and she closes her eyes, tilting towards the phone. “Then you’re attracted to women. It’s as simple as that.”

 

Emma clears her throat trying desperately to respond with something coherent, but this entire time it had been Regina, and part of her wants to throttle her, but the other…oh gods the other, she wants to sink into the mess and let Regina know she is glad she knows everything that’s been going on in her head so she doesn’t have to explain it or stumble over it or hide it away.

 

But mainly the former, and the thought of finding a way to retaliate helps her recover from the shock. “I think I’m getting that part,” she says, and her voice is a little croaky but at least it works.

 

Regina chuckles, softening her voice a touch, “I’ll see you tonight, darling.”

 

Emma sucks in a breath, stuttering, “tonight?”

 

“Henry did invite you over, did he not?”

 

“Yeah.” She curses at herself, because she can’t back out now and disappoint Henry. She would much rather spend the night as a beetroot than risk hurting him. And she doesn’t really want to back out. No, she doesn’t. “See you then.”

 

“Good,” she exclaims then hangs up the phone.

 

Mary Margaret’s eyes brows are still raised, but there’s no way in hell she is about to share any of _that._ “I’m one hundred percent sure I’m attracted to women,” she says, smiling weakly and wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans.

 

* * *

 

Regina walks into the dining room with a giant chocolate cake. Emma brightens, but still shakes her head at the brunette woman, because, “seriously?” she asks, sitting up with bright eyes and ruffles the kid’s hair. “He passed _a_ test. You’re like a secret teddy bear beneath those pantsuits.”

 

“Would you like to try out that theory?” Regina asks in a sultry tone and smiles a smile that shows a story of the devil inside. Emma shivers, and turns a bright shade of red for the millionth time since arriving at the mansion. “Henry, pass me two plates please.”

 

It’s only Henry’s snickering that alerts Emma. “I take it back!” She sits up bolt right and pouts hard. “You _are_ evil. Not giving me cake. That’s worse than anything you’ve done to me so far.”

 

Regina smirks and leans over the table to grab the third plate. “Thank you, dear,” she practically purrs, cleavage firmly on display. The dress she’s wearing is a deep purple, it exposes enough cleavage so that Emma unconsciously flickers her eyes towards it, but not enough for Henry to crinkle his nose every five seconds.

 

Emma’s mind had gone blank when she had been greeted at the door, and it still hasn’t quite caught up to its response. “Second worse,” she mutters, slumping in the chair. Regina’s teeth dig into her lip. She’s sort of pissed over the texts, but not nearly enough as perhaps she should be.

 

When the plate is placed in front of her on the dining room table, Regina’s smile spreads as their eyes connect. “Enjoy,” she says, and Emma gulps, failing to lower her eyes.

 

All thoughts are put on hold when she shoves a bit of cake into her mouth. She moans softly, “Did you make this?” and turns her head in time to catch the slight heave in Regina’s chest and the way her gaze is firmly on Emma.

 

She clears her throat then slips into the stool, “I did.”

 

“Mom makes the best food,” Henry says, shovelling it into his mouth. “You should try her apple turnovers.”

 

Regina tips her fork and thanks her son with a warm smile. “Perhaps you should,” she says, offering up a watered-down version of the expression she had shared with her son. It still manages to light Emma up from the inside out.

 

“I’m not going to say no,” Emma mutters, eyes lighting up. Regina nods once before slowly pushing the fork between plump lips. Emma forgets how to breathe. It’s only when Henry starts babbling on about something that she pulls her attention back into the room.

 

“I’ll clean up,” she offers once everyone has finished and when there’s no protest she runs into the kitchen. Perhaps this is a bad idea, she tells herself as she rummages quickly through the cupboards, but then again, the look on Regina’s face will be priceless. It’s the absolute least she deserves. She steps away and turns to Regina walking closer.

 

“Henry wants you to play video games with him,” Regina says, coming into full view. She leans against the wall with her arms crossed and eyes Emma up and down. “He seems to have taken a liking to you.”

 

“Yeah, me too. He’s a great kid.” Her insides do a happy dance, and she’s close to jiggling on the outside, too. “Would it be okay if I still saw him?” Regina narrows her eyes and considers it for a moment. The scrutiny is obvious, and if Emma hadn’t witnessed that there is in fact a teddy bear locked away in Regina then Emma might have taken offense. “If I’m over stepping-”

 

“I’ll allow it.”

 

Emma’s face lights up, “You will?”

 

“Weekly dinners.”

 

“With both of you?” Her heart does a flip when Regina nods tentatively, as if she’s the one who is unsure. It’s absurd; she’d read those messages and should know how Emma feels. Or how much she enjoyed the kiss, at least. “Could I take Henry to Granny’s sometimes, too? He says you banned him.”

 

Regina chuckles, “I forgot to lift that ban. But so long as one of you lets me know, then I’m okay with it.” The words are barely out when Regina pushes from the wall, “I presume you’ll want a drink?” Emma nods, to both, and is about to thank Regina when she reaches for the cupboard –

 

“Regina! Wait…”

 

Emma flinches as the flour tips from the cupboard. It’s like watching in slow motion, the way Regina jerks backwards, the instant she would swear up and down that it paused in mid-air, but with no way to stop it, the open bag of flour hits the side, causing a mushroom cloud to puff into the air. It’s _everywhere._ And by everywhere, when Regina turns her murderous eyes on Emma the flour has stuck to her cheeks, hair, cleavage. For a second Emma regrets it and expects the worst, expects Regina to ban her from their lives, to tell her she had crossed a line, to leave her house this instant, and then “Prepare for death, Miss Swan,” the mayor purrs, a smirk twitching in the corner of her lips. And Emma can breathe again.

 

Emma bites the inside of her cheek to stop the giggle that bubbles low in her belly. “Sorry,” she says half-heartedly with a shrug, “forgot.”

 

Regina’s eyes squint, but they’re soft around the edges. “Oh, you’ll be sorry alright.”

 

“You threatened to take away cake!” she defends, eyes shining and the laugh begging to be let lose. “It was self-defence.”

 

Regina scoffs; scoops flour into her palm then sways her hips until they’re standing almost nose to nose. Emma stands her ground when Regina’s eyes squint, and she prepares for it to be thrown all over her face, but then that hand shoves down the back of her shirt. It caresses down her spine in little movements. She jiggles on the spot as if being tortured by a feather.

 

“And this is only the start,” Regina says. 

 

Emma spins towards the deep, threatening voice that she wants to hear over and over and over again. The flour is promptly dumped over her head, sticking to her hair like snowflakes. She laughs despite herself, picks up the flour and aims it at Regina’s head. She does the same, until they’re throwing it back and forth and scrapping like children.

 

They squeal, laugh, curl their bodies up when a dose of flour is thrown their way then quickly grab more and throw it back. The sounds of their fight spills into the kitchen. Slight yelps and fake screams along with it. Their faces are radiant, and childlike joy spreads through them. Regina yanks at Emma’s wrist after she has grabbed a fist full of flour. It trickles through her fingertips as Emma lifts her head, their gazes instantly holding. Emma’s breathing shallows, and the laughter dies down, and they’re standing inches apart with Regina’s hand still wrapped around her wrist.

 

Emma’s tongue runs along her lips as Regina’s eyes flicker to them. The fingers around her wrist tighten, heart beating so loud it’s creating its own sound. Louder still when Regina’s fingers brush through her mangled hair. That feeling courses through every inch of her body and demands she lean towards something intoxicating. “Regina,” she whispers, time slowing as their noses gravitate closer then twist. One more move –

 

Regina’s lips mush firmly against hers, and Emma wraps her arms tightly around the older woman, moaning, kissing back without a second thought, as her feet stutter backwards until her back presses up against the counter. Fingers tangle in her blonde hair, tugging until her head is twisted and her mouth open, and Regina’s tongue slides inside and explores in way that makes Emma’s knees weaken.

 

It feels fantastic, and even though Regina’s body is flushed against hers, it still doesn’t feel like enough. The arms around Regina’s waist tighten until she’s leaning against Emma and would tumble if the younger woman moved. Regina moans, curling her tongue around Emma’s and slaps a hand to the counter to prevent her from falling before those lips pull away and trail along her jaw line and down her neck. Emma sighs, head tipping backwards and any and all doubts about who she should be doing this with are squashed.

 

She wants Regina.

 

Wants those lips and hands everywhere, and she doesn’t care in the slightest that they’re covered in flour, so long as Regina doesn’t either. A tongue flicks along her neck then over her ear, one hand sliding underneath her tank top, the warm palm roaming over her side and Emma wants so badly for a thigh to push between her legs so she can grind on it. She might not have any memories, but it feels natural and right and –

 

“What in the world happened in here?” Henry asks, skidding to a stop and widening his eyes. “Mom?”

 

They jump apart, and Emma’s heart lodges in her throat. She cast a guilty expression at Regina, but the woman stands up straight, eyes on her son and tugs on her dress. “I was reminded of why I loathe her.”

 

Emma tries to laugh, but it’s weak when she says, “Yeah, feeling’s mutual.” She gives Henry an apologetic smile.

 

He crosses his arms, “You kiss people you don’t like?”

 

“Henry-” Regina takes a step closer to him, an arm raised as if she is trying to reach out. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

 

“We got caught up,” Emma says.

 

“I mean, it’s cool if you guys like _like_ each other.”

 

Emma glances to Regina, waiting for confirmation or for her to turn around and for this to be a horrible prank. Regina twists her head and their eyes hold. Emma sucks in a breath and offers a wry smile, only letting out the breath when Regina offers one back of her own.

 

She turns towards her son, “Are you sure?”

 

Emma’s heart drums harder when he nods then scrunches his nose, “But I’m gunna…go play video games.”

 

“We might have to take a rain check on those video games, kid,” Emma says, shrugging a shoulder. “Need to clean up.”

 

“I got that-” he chuckles at the sight of them, before spinning on his heel and making his escape.  

 

“We should probably clean up this mess,” Regina says. They make quick work of mopping the floor then Regina directs her down a small flight of stairs towards a laundry room. “You can borrow something, unless you’d rather clean up elsewhere?” she asks, eyeing Emma intently.

 

She swallows, “Here’s fine,” because she really doesn’t want to go back to Killian and explain this. To admit that she’s kissed someone else, _twice,_ how she wants to give the ring back and walk out the door. Except she has nowhere else to go, and there’s an entire gap in her mind that keeps her second-guessing everything. “Regina, I’m-”

 

She spins towards Emma, “This can’t happen again,” and her eyes flicker to the engagement ring. Emma sucks in a breath, pressing her thumb into it.

 

“Then why did you screw with me over the texts?” she asks, yanking her shirt off and then her jeans, not caring if she’s left only in her underwear. “And kiss me in the tent?” She shoves the clothes at Regina’s chest, then steps back, crossing her arms. Those hazel eyes lock on her own, and Emma arches a brow, daring her to look, to be honest. “You can’t go around invading people’s privacy like that.”

 

Regina chuckles, “You really thought Mary Margaret would have been so open?” Emma shakes her head, and she’s a tiny bit relieved that the woman doesn’t know about the time she’d stumbled across porn. It being Regina makes a lot more sense, but she’s conflicted and confused, and…

 

The mayor sighs then places the clothes down before spinning and pushing her hair to one side. “Unzip me?” she asks, and Emma’s licking her lips and moving her shaking fingers to the zip. Her lips move on automatic to the tanned skin on display. “Emma…” Her hands push the flour covered dress from her shoulders, her finger tips brushing along Regina’s arms then she rests her forehead on the back of Regina’s neck wrapping her arms around her bare front.

 

Her chin props on Regina’s shoulder, eyes closing and she holds her for a moment. Simply holds her. Regina tips backwards, humming softly. They stand there, locked in an embrace, Regina’s hands resting on Emma’s forearms, eyes closed and swaying ever so slightly.

 

“Henry’s upstairs,” Regina whispers, twisting her head so she can rest it against Emma’s. “And about the texts…I was going to tell you sooner, but then the camping trip happened and my competitive side got the better of me. I didn’t mean to humiliate you, but if you want to talk for real-”

 

“I’m little embarrassed, but not humiliated. And to be honest I’m sort of glad Mary Margaret doesn’t know about my masturbating habits.” Regina’s chuckle vibrates against Emma’s body, then she spins in her arms, draping her own around Emma’s neck. “You sort of saved me some embarrassment.”

 

Regina’s hair brushes along her bare neck when she dips her head to capture Emma’s lips. Green eyes close and she tips her chin upwards. Their lips part enough for their tongues to gently brush before closing. There’s no rush to this kiss and it lasts long enough for goose bumps to rise over Emma’s skin.

 

When they pull back they look shyly at each other. “I don’t know what’s happening,” Emma says.

 

“Me neither.” Regina looks into her eyes for a moment before slipping her arms from Emma’s neck. “We should probably put some clothes on.”

 

Emma nods and her cheeks tint when hazel eyes run the length of her body. Regina hums and hands over a loose shirt and yoga pants, and somewhere along the way they end up sat on the floor of the laundry room after Regina had run upstairs to check on Henry and grab a bottle of wine.

 

They don’t talk about all that much afterwards.

 

She ends up dosing on Regina’s shoulder, falling into dreams of the three of them; her and Regina with Henry between them, his arms around them and _mom, mom, I just saw you guys,_ and Regina with tear filled eyes clutching onto her hand. _It doesn’t sound like a happy ending. It’s not, but I can give you one._ Emma smiles and hums in her sleep, unaware of the fingers brushing through her hair.

 

Then it morphs and everyone is turning on those they love the most as an echo of _Swaaaaaan_ accompanies her descent into the vault, a woman in light blue by her side, and Regina’s sneering and turning on her and _how do you walk in that thing?_ That causes a little chuckle to bubble in Emma’s throat, as Regina checks on the sleeping woman and wonders what her dreams might hold.

 

Then she’s twitching at the darkness, the anxiety that’s been absent for weeks running through her veins because she can’t let it take Regina, and she’s running in her dreams, running and running but then she’s on the ground, Killian laying down and begging her to let him go, but she can’t think past losing anyone else, until Regina poofs away in a cloud of purple smoke after they had kissed.

 

She twitches and sniffles, and Regina’s frowning down at her, but Emma’s mind is stuck in the dream. Of conflicting feelings and doubts, and she’s light again, and Killian is dark, his vengeful eyes on her when she lifts her head. He’s gone in a cloud of black smoke, and Emma spends the coming days confused and alone, and then when the red clouds crawl over her she wishes for a second chance.

 

Then the curse accommodates her wish and gives her a fresh start.


	7. Chapter 7

_Five months into the curse_

Archie regards his client, flings one leg over the other then smiles softly, “I don’t think I’ve seen you quite so sure of anything in these past months.”

 

“Yeah-” Emma’s face lights up, lips pushed together, and she does this little shrug with one shoulder that scrunches up her nose. “I want her. I know that for sure.”

 

“Then what’s the issue?”

 

Her hands drop to her lap on a sigh. “I must have made this decision for a reason. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow, remember that reason and then not have a chance to live the life I wanted.”

 

“Do you believe if tomorrow you woke up with feelings for Killian that would change how you feel about Regina?”

 

“No,” she says easily. “I doubt anything would, but then I’d be stuck between them.”

 

“Almost like you are now?” Pongo trots up to sit beside him, and he scratches the dog behind his ears before he barks once then moves over to sit by Emma’s feet.

 

She strokes him, “Hey, boy,” then smiles contently when he snuggles up on top of her feet. “Yeah I guess. I thought I at least owed it to him to try because he found me and saved my life.”

 

“So, you feel obligated into a relationship with him?” She nods quickly, and almost flops back on the couch at how easy this feels compared to those months ago. “Was there ever a time you felt any romantic feelings for Killian since your accident?” She shakes her head without hesitation. “So, what makes you believe that any feelings are going to develop, or perhaps that you felt them before your accident?”

 

Emma bites her lip and frowns, “But I agreed to marry him.”

 

Archie gives her a small smile, “That might be true, but I do recall a time when you were reluctant to be with him. I don’t remember the details specifically other than he followed you around even when you were hesitant about starting a relationship.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” She sits up straighter, eyes a little wide and arches her brows at him.

 

“Honestly, Emma, it was a memory I only recently recalled.” She nods slowly, deflating. “What I’m trying to say is, wasn’t it human decency that saw Killian bring you to a hospital? Wouldn’t a stranger at least call for help? And if it was a stranger, would you feel obligated to be with them?”

 

Emma takes a breath and lets the questions fly at her. “Take your time,” he says, and she nods before gently pulling her feet from under the dog so she can lie flat on the couch. Her legs flop down, hands resting on her stomach and she stares at the ceiling. That is until Pongo pops his head up on the couch, whines softly and doesn’t stop until Emma’s head flops to the side and she continues to gently scratch behind his ears.

 

“If I don’t get my memories back then I can’t imagine ever feeling anything for him. I don’t want to live like this. Even if Regina wasn’t a part of it. I’m done.” She takes a breath, smiling slightly when Pongo drops his head to her stomach. She wonders if Regina likes dogs, or what would happen if she were to turn up at the mansion with a dog for them. Perhaps that’s a thought for the future, but… a family dog. She likes the sound of that. “I always thought that I at least owed him enough to try, but if it wasn’t him then I guess…no, it wouldn’t have been the same.”

 

“Do you believe five months of your life is long enough to be considered as having tried?”

 

Emma nods, and moves her gaze to Archie. “I thought you would try and persuade me to stay with him.”

 

“I’m only here to guide you,” he says, “you had every opportunity to answer those questions differently. These sessions aren’t about what I think you should do, but to help you figure out what’s best for you.”

 

“I think I’ve figured that out.” _Regina. Henry._ The dog she imagines bringing home to them. _Home._

 

“Just to be clear… do you still feel as if you can’t trust yourself?” He leans forwards on the chair, elbows digging into his knees and keeps his gaze on his client.

 

Emma swallows, looking back up to the ceiling. “I felt like…like I couldn’t trust the decisions I had made. And I’m still not sure I can, but I think I trust that I know what I want.” How to go about getting them, a completely different matter, but she takes a breath and meets Archie’s gaze, “And I want to start going after what I want.”

 

It’s about time she starts living for herself.

 

* * *

 

The conversation isn’t going well.

 

Emma’s sat on the couch as Killian paces, and her fists are clenched and pressed against her thighs. She takes a deep calming breath before lifting her eyes, “This isn’t what I want, Killian,” she says, a plea in her voice, and desperation, and… she sighs.

 

“You don’t mean that.” His pacing is interrupted to glare at her. “I know you, and I know you’re not thinking clearly.”

 

“I’m thinking more clearly than I have in months.”

 

“This isn’t you, Swan,” he says, “at least think about it. We’re good together I can show you.”

 

Emma resists the urge to roll her eyes. He’d said the same variation of that sentence at least half a dozen times, and she’s growing tired. He continues to tell her what she wants, as if he knows better. They go back and forth for another hour, but there’s a moment when Emma realises no matter what she says it won’t register. If it’s not what _he wants_ then he won’t hear it.

 

So, with a resigned sigh she gets up and places a hand on his bicep. “Killian, look I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.”

 

“I put everything on hold for you. For _us._ We stopped planning our wedding, our family; you haven’t let me touch you once. A man has needs, Swan.”

 

She grits her teeth and holds saying anything back, images of Regina suddenly invading her mind. She has no right to fight back, she knows she’s cheated on him. It might not have gone further than a kiss, but she had wanted it to. “I am sorry, but unless you’re going to force me to stay then we’re done.”

 

“Is it _her?”_ He shakes Emma off, and she crosses her arms, only mildly offended that he believes she can’t make her own decisions. “Maybe if you put this much effort in for me-”

 

“Killian.  I don’t want to be with you. It has nothing to do with anyone or anything else. How have I not made myself clear?”

 

“Think about it, Swan. We’re good together.” His hands reach out towards her hips, but she jerks away and lifts her arms into the air.

 

“This isn’t working,” she says, stalking to the kitchen then grabbing a kitchen towel before throwing it back down. She ends up brewing some coffee before spinning back around and leaning against the side.

 

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he says, placing his hands on the counter on either side of her hips.

 

“Killian…” her eyes lower, fingers gripping onto the edge of the counter as her jaw tightens.

 

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Swan,” and for a horrible moment she’s brought back to the place where she _needs_ to believe him, to force a smile and flatten her voice, whisper everything he wants to hear, but that thought sends a tremor through her body.

 

She presses a hand against his chest, and when he stands in place she pushes harder. “I’m not doing this-” she snaps her eyes to him, and something within her grows and grows until they harden. “ _Move_.”

 

His face twists in agitation, but he steps back. “I know things have been rough, but we’ve got something good here,” he tries to argue, but the softness in his voice is so fake it sends a shiver up her spine. In what universe had she fallen for this crap?

 

“We’re done, Killian.” She grabs her mug and heads into the next room. He follows like a lost puppy, but when she turns with eyes that beg him to fight, he pauses and searches through them. It’s as if he’s seeing something that Emma doesn’t understand, something that was lost, but it makes that darkness appear in his eyes before it settles down.

 

His face grows sober when he lifts his head and bores his gaze into her. “You need me,” he says through gritted teeth. “Without me you’re n…” but he catches himself, takes a deep breath and his eyes return to normal. His fists remain clenched, body so tight it might shatter with the slightest movement.

_Nothing._

He doesn’t need to say it, and it’s all the confirmation she needs. “ _Get out,”_ she hisses, and his darkened eyes hold something unforgiving within them when he leers. When she holds it without wavering, he scoffs and lets it rise.

 

“You’ll be sorry, Swan. With no memories who are you? Who will ever want you? You are a shell of a person, you are broken.” Emma’s stomach tightens, but she stands rooted, maintaining eye contact and refusing to cower. “You’re lucky I ever stayed as long as I did. You’re nothing but a little orphaned girl begging for love in any corner she can find. It’s _pathetic.”_

Emma breaths shudders, chest so tight she’s not sure it will ever loosen again. The mug shakes when she lifts it to her lips then puts the mug down more forcefully than needed. “Is this supposed to make me want you?” she asks him, face hard and unreadable. It stings and all she wants is to curl up and for someone to rub her back, but she can’t be weak in front of him. Not after he has shown who he really is. “Because I don’t.”

 

 “You know what, Swan-” he moves closer then lets him arms slap against him. His head shakes and he calms down. “This conversation isn’t over. We’ll talk when you’re acting more like the you I asked to marry.” He storms out of the house and slams the door as Emma’s yanking at her finger.

 

She throws the ring after him, not having it in herself to care where it lands.

 

* * *

 

“Mom thinks you’re avoiding her,” Henry says, before slurping on his milkshake.

 

Emma groans, head falling into her arms on the counter. “I’m not avoiding her,” she mutters, and ok, maybe she had been avoiding her a little bit. Killian’s harsh words had made her insecure and she didn’t want to confront Regina and find out she thought her broken as well.

 

She lifts her head with a pout, “Ruby!” she exclaims when a kitchen towel is lightly slapped across her back, as if the brunette had read her mind and had wanted to smack the insecurity out of her.

 

“What?” She smirks, twiddling her hair and wiggles her eyebrows. “I just wanted to let you know your fiancé came in yesterday, said something about travelling on the high sea.”

 

“He’s not my fiancé anymore,” is the first thing Emma mutters, before lowering her eyes to her tapping fingers. It might have only been three days since their “talk”, but so far he hasn’t let up and keeps trying to persuade Emma to give things another go. She’d moved some of her things into the spare room, to find him sleeping in the same bed the following morning. And she’d been _pissed._

 

But for some reason, knowing he’s planning to leave town leaves her with an emptiness, as if she should want to cling onto him and never let him go. Even if she knows she never wants to look at his face again, she doesn’t want him to leave her, and it’s not even about it being _him,_ just another person to put that dent on her soul.

 

“Is that why he’s talking about leaving?” Ruby asks, leaning her elbows on the counter from behind it. Henry looks between them, having enough sense to grab a handful of fries and shove them into his mouth. “You guys broke up?”

 

Emma nods before lifting her gaze, which momentarily catches on the cleavage on display, and so it seems Regina isn’t the only woman she’s attracted to, but Regina’s the only woman she wants. She quickly pulls her eyes away. “I broke up with him, but he keeps saying I should give him another chance.”

 

“But you don’t have to,” Henry says, and Emma twists her head to look at him in a fake-stern kind of way. He blushes a little. “What? It’s not like you’ll be on your own.”

 

Ruby arches one perfectly styled eyebrow, “You won’t?”

 

“Kid,” Emma warns, but squeezes his shoulder gently to know she’s not mad at him. Then shakes her head and groans. She might as well just spill the truth and hope it doesn’t spread around town before she gets the change to go and talk to Regina. “Me and Regina sort of…kissed-” she scrunches her nose up, but the little smirk appears without her consent.

 

“What? How? Swan! She’s like… the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. And you’re sitting in here instead of sitting…”

 

“GUYS!” Henry’s wide eyes have them both chuckling. “She’s my _mom._ Gross.”

 

“Sorry kid,” Emma says, ruffling his hair. “I’m sure you’ll meet someone one day who will make your knees go weak.”

 

“He’s a teenager,” Ruby says, “think he’s already feeling something.”

 

Henry’s cheeks flame and he lowers his arms into his head in a perfect imitation of Emma. “You guys are gross,” he mumbles, the sound muffled through his arms.

 

Emma wrinkles her nose, “That’s not anything I want to think about.” Even if Ruby is right and he’s aging and most likely experiencing crushes and maybe…other things, and so, she sort of wants to embarrass him, but she also doesn’t want to think about that possibility ever. She feels like she imagines Regina would in this situation.

 

“Right, well…dish on the mayor?” but when Emma shakes her head, Ruby rolls her eyes overdramatically and goes over to serve a table.

 

“You’re safe, kid,” she jokes, smiling warmly when he lifts his eyes. Gods, she loves him, and only wishes that this could be more than just a few visits to granny’s and weekly dinners.

 

He looks over his shoulder, and when Ruby is chatting up some guy and swirling her hair around her finger he brings his attention back to Emma. “So…” he says, “mom has called you a bunch of times, but refuses to anymore, and she asked me to invite you over on Friday. You know for the dinner you should be coming to anyway, and I think it’ll make her really sad if you don’t show up.”

 

“I’m not avoiding her.” Emma sags, because in truth…she has been. She had been so ready to fight for Regina, to tell her she makes her stomach flip and heart drum, and to ask her out on a date to see where they could take this. Then Killian refusing to accept that things are over happened, or, well, is still happening, and she doesn’t want to complicate things. But she doesn’t want to hurt Regina either. “Friday?”

 

“Yeah, it’s just dinner and maybe a movie or something.”

 

She takes a deep breath and nods, “What type of flowers does your mom like?” she asks, receiving a blinding smile and a giddy feeling in her gut.

 

* * *

 

Regina places the vase of lilies on the coffee table before tugging on the bottom of her dress. She turns towards the couch, where Emma and Henry’s thumbs are moving over the controllers at lightning speed, their bodies jerking and they’re making sound effects as they go.

 

The narrator on the screen says, “Victory!” as Henry fists pumps into the air and Emma flops back against the couch. They’ve played multiple rounds and she’s managed to win one game, and that was because Regina had called to Henry from the other room and he’d been distracted for long enough for her to win. She sighs, flickering her eyes upwards. When their eyes meet Emma pushes her lips together and ducks her head. Regina smirks, swaying her hips then settles herself down, close enough so their bare thighs press together. Emma’s stomach tightens and she swallows hard.

 

Regina chuckles, “He kicked your ass again?” Emma pouts, but the mayor playfully nudges her side and she couldn’t hold back the smile if she wanted to.

 

“Mom’s the only person who’s ever beaten me.”

 

Emma looks at him incredulously for a moment, wondering if the kid really is that good at video games or if he somehow cheats, until she twists her head around to the smug mayor, because there’s something even more important than that, “You play video games?”

 

“Is that so surprising?”

 

“I guess not,” Emma says, inching backwards when Regina leans over her lap to reach for the controller in Henry’s hands. She sucks in a breath, and keeps her body tilted backwards despite how much she really, really doesn’t want to.

 

Regina wraps her fingers around the controller with a winning smile, applying gentle pressure until Henry relinquishes control, “Let me play against Emma.”

 

“Fine.” His hands lift then they slap against his hands against his thighs. “Rudeness.” He stands on a huff, his minute hissy fit reminding Emma so much of his mother that she can’t help but to chuckle. 

 

Regina flashes her son a smile, “Love you, Henry.”

 

He rolls his eyes with a muttered, “Love you too,” before flickering his eyes to Emma and promptly blushing. It’s adorable, and Emma wants to wrap her arms around him and Regina in turn and be a part of those declarations.

 

“Yeah, thanks Henry.” She wiggles her eyebrows at Regina. “You just watch, I’m gonna bring your mom’s ego down.” Regina tilts her head, smirking, as she readies the controller in both hands. Emma’s teeth dig into her bottom lip, though her cheeks push up anyway.

 

“Good luck with that.” Regina snorts, and it’s so uncharacteristic that it sends a wave through Emma’s stomach. “I’m going out now anyway,” he says, his hands slipping into the pockets of his pants as he shrugs with this smug smirk.

 

“Excuse me?” Regina says, and Emma’s cheeks heat up. She wants to be alone with Regina, but to be set up by Henry is not how she planned on that happening. “Would you like to fill your mother in on these details?”

 

“I told you. I’m meeting Hansel, and I’ll be back by eleven.”

 

Regina narrows her eyes, “I’ll allow it. Call me if anything changes.”

 

“Thanks mom.”

 

Then he’s gone, and Emma shuffles, hands gripping the controller tighter with her eyes glued to the screen. A warm hand settles on her thigh, and she looks down to it, licks her lips then meets Regina’s gaze head on.

 

She’s grateful that Henry hadn’t commented on her outfit, and she’s even more grateful that Regina had been the one to open the door. The brunette had gawked, and unapologetically had slowly run her eyes the length of her with a heaving chest. By the time their eyes had met, Regina’s were dilated. Any doubts about the skirt and heels being too much were cut off by that look, and now, by the fingers trailing along her inner thigh.

 

“Miss Swan,” she purrs. “I do believe that we are alone.”

 

Emma chuckles awkwardly, “Yeah. Can’t believe we’ve been set up,” and that she had fallen for it like an idiot. “Did you even ask Henry to invite me over?”

 

Regina’s eyes widen, “No, I did not. I’ll be having words with my son.” She slips her hand from Emma’s thigh, clearing her throat. “So that means you didn’t choose to come here of your own accord then? I had hoped that was the case”

 

“I…” Emma shrugs one shoulder, “I wanted to, but-”

 

“You were avoiding me.”

 

“I wasn’t avoiding you. Why does everyone keep saying that?” She groans and tips her head forwards until her curled hair covers her face, because she knows it’s true no matter how much she keeps denying it. Regina’s body is inching away until Emma deflates, “I’m sorry,” and meets Regina’s gaze. “I think I was scared.” Killian’s words had hit exactly where he wanted them too.

 

Regina nods once, eyes flickering to Emma’s bare finger. “Did you talk to him?”

 

“Yeah, but as far as he’s aware we’re just going through a rough patch.”

 

Emma tries to chuckle, to force a smile and convince herself, and maybe Regina, that it’s all okay. That it doesn’t mean they can’t do…whatever this is, but when she looks up Regina’s lips are pursed and she gives her an, “Oh.” Emma’s heart beats a little quicker when Regina’s head twists and she focuses on the screen, flicking through the different characters. She laughs nervously, “I’m beginning to feel like the other woman.”

 

“Regina…”

 

“I thought you wanted to bring my ego down?” she asks, looking away towards the screen. Emma nods with a tight smile, hoping that the game might be enough of a distraction. Or at least a way to get them to a good place.

 

The game fires up with their selective characters throwing punches and kicks, diving into the air whilst the two women’s fingers furiously tap against the controller and their bodies twist and flinch.

 

Emma smirks as Regina’s life force is almost all the way down, she can practically taste the victory already. “I’m gonna kick your-”

 

Emma’s face drops as the mayor suddenly places three direct punches followed by spinning in the air and a final kick that sends Emma’s character flying. Regina’s character comes onto the screen, fist pumping the air in victory.

 

Regina tosses her hair back and gives her a cocky look, “What was it you were saying, dear?”

 

“Nothing,” she mutters, placing the controller to the side. By the time she looks back the air has thickened, and she can hardly breathe with the tightness of it settling in her throat. “Can we talk now?” she asks, pleading with her eyes for a moment of understanding.

 

“You _want_ to talk?” Regina’s eyes are a little pained, but she places the controller on the coffee table then twists towards Emma. “Or are you going to kiss me then return home to someone else?” Perhaps she doesn’t have any right to be mad, but she wants Emma to know she’s hurt. “Look if…”

 

“It’s not like that.”

 

Regina sighs, “We can just be friends, Emma. If that’s all you want.”

 

“ _You thought we were friends?”_ Pops into her mind, but she doesn’t have time to figure out if that particular dream was a memory or not. So, Emma shakes her head, unable to figure out exactly what she wants to say or how to say it, until, “It’s not him I want, Regina. I have no doubt about that.” Those hazel eyes soften a little, but all she does is nod tightly, not giving herself over. Not yet. “No matter how much he tries to tell me otherwise or refuses to accept it, we’re done. We _are_ done.” On a breath, Emma reaches out and takes a hold on Regina’s hand, slipping their fingers together. “ _Please.”_

Regina’s breath shudders, as she squeezes Emma’s hand and lowers her head to the younger woman’s shoulder. The small weight is perfect, the hair tickling her neck feels right, and Emma can’t help but to press her lips to Regina’s temple. A smile grows on the mayor’s lips at the soft gesture, and she tips her chin upwards to meet Emma’s gaze. She knows Emma is not lying, she knows she’s not being played. “Does this count as a date then?”

 

Emma shrugs, “Do you want it to?”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Yeah,” she says, “I do.”

 

And that settles it. Regina tilts her chin up further, wets her lips then suggestively puckers them. Emma smiles, tipping her head forwards to press their mouths together. She sighs into the kiss, nibbling on Regina’s lower lip and internally dying at the moan it produced before Regina’s flickering her tongue over her lips before sliding it between them.

 

Their tongues curl together, twisting a knot low in Emma’s belly, and when their lips press back together then open, Emma takes the opportunity to slip her tongue through Regina’s slightly parted lips and explore with various hums and moans.

 

They pull backwards, eyes fluttering open and Regina’s sparkle, and she’s wrapping her hand around Emma’s neck and tugging her back down. The look of adoration on Regina’s face is enough to assuage Emma of her insecurities, so there’s no hesitation when she kisses Regina again, already growing intoxicated with the way Regina feels. Slowly, Regina’s hand comes to rest back on her thigh, fingers lightly tracing circles on the insides. Emma moans, not stopping her when it travels higher, and higher, and then the material of her skirt rests on Regina’s wrist as a single finger traces where her skin meets her underwear.

 

She whimpers, hips jerking, then the mayor sits up with a smirk. Emma’s heart beats wildly. Regina’s hand flattens on her shoulder and she doesn’t resist when light pressure is added. Emma wiggles down onto the couch, biting her lip and rests her head on top of a pillow so her curled hair spreads out over it.

 

Regina’s knees are on either side of her hips, dipping into the couch, her dress tightening around her exposed thighs, preventing her from spreading her legs further. Then she’s leaning forwards, elbows on either side of Emma’s head. “Relax,” she whispers, before soft lips press against her jaw. “We can stop this at any time.”

 

There’s a small gap between their bodies, and Emma glances at it like it had personally offended her, before her hands travel up Regina’s sides and around her back, tightening them until she lowers herself and settles her weight on Emma. She stares into Regina’s eyes, “I don’t want to stop,” she assures her before lifting her head just as Regina lowers hers, and then they’re kissing again.

 

They stay like that, slowly trailing their lips over each other’s necks and jaw lines. Emma pecks the tips of Regina’s nose with a chuckle. “You’re beautiful,” she mutters, a flush growing up her cheeks, but Regina’s head tilts to one side with this soft smile. “Like…really fucking beautiful,” and it grows wider, her eyes melting, and a tint spreads on Regina’s cheeks.

 

Her lips fall back down to Emma’s, but their kiss is interrupted by her chuckle and the way they’re both holding back smiles. In the end Regina’s face gets buried in Emma’s neck, nuzzling softly, and Emma can’t think of anything more perfect. One hand rubs up and down her back whilst the other tangles in her hair and massages her scalp. She sighs, the weight of Regina on top of her just as comforting as she remembered, and her eyes close, squeezing a little tighter when Regina sucks her ear lobe into her warm mouth, applying gentle pressure before letting it slide from her lips before she latches onto her pulse point.

 

“Hmm-” Emma arches a little, arms wrapping around Regina’s waist. “Gods, that’s nice.”

 

Regina licks the offended area before popping her head back up.  Emma keeps her eyes intently on those dark ones that are slowing moving closer. Their noses brush first then their lips, in quick sweet pecks as Regina’s head tilts from side to side, capturing Emma’s mouth as she goes. The incredible softness has Emma’s eyes immediately closing, her body trembling from desire.

 

Emma daringly swipes her tongue along Regina’s lower lip. She bites it between her teeth next, nibbling it and causing the older woman to moan softly before she presses down harder against Emma’s mouth.

 

“Would you like to move to second base?” Regina asks against her lips before popping her head back up with a smirk. When Emma frowns, Regina’s eye widen, “You don’t remember?” Her head shakes, the heat she’d been feeling in her belly slowly morphing into dread. “Hey…it’s okay,” but then Regina sucks in a breath. “Do you remember any of this?”

 

Regina’s sitting back up and all Emma wants is to do is tug her back down and continue making out. “No-” her eyes lower to her stomach but then Regina’s hands flatten on top of her abs, roaming to her sides and caressing softly. There’s a gentleness in Emma’s eyes when she lifts them, feeling her body hum from a mixture of desire and wanting to just be held.

 

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have…we should stop.” Regina’s already tipping her body backwards, but Emma’s hands shoot to her hips. Regina snaps her head towards her with a slight frown.

 

“I sort of remember, not in detail, but…like instinct.” Her thumbs brush over the material as Regina’s breathing becomes laboured. “And I don’t want to stop.” Not when she’s throbbing and not when she knows that she’s wet and just the thought of Regina being the one to touch her and relieve that ache has her mind spinning and a little needy whimper escapes her throat, “I want you.”

 

It’s all she has to say for the mayor to crawl back on top of her before grabbing her cheeks and firmly kissing her mouth with no preambles. Emma allows herself to be led in the kiss, doing nothing more than moaning, sliding her lips over Regina’s and roaming her hands everywhere they can reach.

 

Their chests press together, and Emma’s hands run straight down Regina’s deep blue dress until she can grip onto her ass. The older woman moans deep from within her chest, hair tickling Emma’s face for each time she twists her head to deepen the kiss. Emma easily parts her lips, allowing Regina’s tongue free access to explore then curls her own around it. The moan rumbles from deep in her throat, and she widens her mouth and places a hand on the back of Regina’s head, needing her to stay and for this to continue forever.

 

Regina shifts herself to one side, a hand rubbing up Emma’s side until it covers Emma’s left breast. The kiss pauses for long enough for Regina to mutter, “This is second base,” and Emma chuckles and arches into the touch before they’re kissing again and Regina’s squeezing her boob and rubbing her thumb over the nipple that’s growing harder by the second. Emma whimpers before Regina’s somehow popping the buttons of her button up undone with one hand like she has magic to help. Not that she’s complaining in the slightest.

 

Once her stomach is exposed and her lacey bra is on full display, Regina sits back on her heels, dilated eyes wandering before she shuffles backwards to dip her tongue in between Emma’s muscles. “Fuck,” Emma hisses, toes curling and body in conflict when she jerks away from Regina’s hair tickling her sides. Regina laughs, sweeping her hair over one shoulder before pressing her lips against her taunt stomach, but then she hesitates.

 

Her eyes lift from half way down Emma’s body, and for a moment Emma isn’t sure why she’s stopped until Regina’s lips are slowly lowering and running along her stretch marks. She doesn’t say anything, instead lets her lips trail all over them until tears sting Emma’s eyes and her head flops to the side.

 

“You okay?” Regina asks, hands gripped around her hips.

 

Emma nods, “Yeah,” she says a little hoarsely, reaching out to tangle her fingers in Regina’s hair. She hadn’t known what to expect when her feelings had started developing, but Regina already treating her with so much care was so far from her expectations she doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s nice, but being reminded of everything she’s missing isn’t as much, but with Regina it somehow makes it bearable, even just a little bit more. “So you have feelings for me?”

 

Regina rolls her eyes at Emma’s cheeky smile. Wet kisses trail from Emma’s stomach to her ribcage, her soft fingers running up her sides. “Arch your back,” she whispers, and Emma does, chest heaving when Regina unclips her bra then pulls the cups away. Regina alternates between running one nipple between her thumb and forefinger and sucking on the other, little moans and whimpers coming from Emma’s throat as she spends time pleasuring her.

 

It’s enough of an answer, and then she kisses back down Emma’s stomach in a straight trail, not stopping when she hits the black pleated skirt. Emma breathes deeply, bending her legs upwards and spreading them as Regina’s hands settle on her thighs. “Touch me,” she begs, and the plea has Regina pushing her legs wider apart.

 

A tongue swipes along those luscious lips as Regina’s breathing shallows. “Someone’s eager,” she says, lifting her eyes and trying to act sultry. Emma squeezes her eyes shut, because of course she is, but she hadn’t known it would be _that_ obvious.

 

“We’ve been kissing for ages,” she says, “I’m _dying.”_

Regina chuckles, fingers hooking into her underwear then rolling them down her legs. Emma looks down at herself and whimpers. The open shirt and bra dangling from her arms, completely exposing her chest and just _how_ eager her hardened nipples make her look. Then Regina’s hands brush up her sides to push the skirt over her hips, laying her bare, and the scarps of material fail to cover _anywhere_ and it only makes her throb harder. Regina’s soft hands grip her thighs, parting her legs wider until she hooks her ankle onto the top of her couch, wrapping the other around Regina’s back.  

 

 “ _Please_ ,” Emma whines.

 

She knows she sounds desperate, but she couldn’t care less if it will get Regina to finally touch her. Regina’s eyes darken before she lays on her stomach and kisses up the insides of Emma’s thighs, sucking and licking as she goes. Emma’s hips start bucking, one hand fisting in Regina’s hair and the other gripping onto the edge of the couch.  “ _Please,”_ she whimpers, and she’s ready to beg some more before finally… _finally,_ Regina presses the flat of her tongue down.

 

Emma sighs and moans, head falling back against the pillow, rocking her hips up to meet that skilled tongue. Her thighs tighten its grip on Regina and she’s rocking herself into that glorious mouth that’s running along her slick folds, sucking then licking before that skilful tongue circles around her throbbing clit. Emma’s eyes screw shut.  Then she’s rocking unapologetically, not caring about the moans spilling from her throat, so long as that pressure continues to build. She could rock for days, just keep going with Regina’s head buried between her legs.

 

“I need you inside me,” she mutters, not sure if she managed to make her voice work until a finger teases her entrance before pushing inside. It’s quickly followed by another when Regina undoubtedly realises how ready she is. “ _Fuck,”_ she hisses, but Regina doesn’t lose focus, continuing her ministrations as if building Emma’s orgasm is her sole mission.

 

It doesn’t take much longer when those fingers begin to move in and out, as she curls them in the right places and sucks her slippery clit into that delicious mouth. Emma’s back arches and a stream of incoherent words fall from her lips. She shudders, clenching around Regina’s fingers whilst applying pressure to the back of her head and bucking wildly. When the waves pass she flops back against the couch with a deep breath.

 

Her chest is laboured, hair sprawled everywhere, and a gleam of sweat is covering her torso. Her clothes are a mess and she’s suddenly uncomfortable, but when Regina pops her head up she forgets about it completely. She swipes her tongue along her glistening lips, fingers pushing into her mouth where she sucks on them whilst maintaining eye contact. She almost comes again at the sight, but she wants so badly to return the favour. ~~~~

With her mind in a post-orgasmic blaze she manages to shrug some of her clothes off, leaving her in nothing but a skirt as she sinks to her knees. Regina’s back on the couch, dress hiked up to her hips as Emma’s fingers hook over her underwear, throwing them to one side. She waits a beat, licking her lips as she sits between Regina’s legs, but before the mayor can ask if she’s unsure, (and perhaps she doesn’t know _exactly_ what to do, but she knows for a fact she wants Regina in her mouth), she leans forwards and presses the flat of her tongue down then licks just like Regina had.

 

Regina moans, those delicious thighs wrapping around her head. The heels of her feet tap the top of Emma’s back, digging in slightly, but the taste of Regina is spreading on her lips and into her mouth, and the smell of arousal is so intoxicating that she doesn’t care, not even when strong fingers tug at her hair to push her closer.

 

Regina moans then she’s whimpering and bucking her hips up. Her fingers dig into Regina’s bare hips, holding her in place as she runs her tongue over her slick flesh. It’s just so fucking perfect she wants to stay buried there pleasuring Regina on a loop, forever. She sucks, _sucks_ until Regina cries out, hand gripping tighter into Emma’s hair to draw out the pleasure before her breath shudders and she slumps back onto the couch.

 

They take some time to recover, falling back onto the couch with Regina’s weight so perfectly on top of her. They make-out, tongues sliding into their mouths to taste each other and roaming hands over bodies, and it doesn’t take long before Regina’s slipping a hand between them and slipping fingers inside her. She pushes in a third, tucking her thumb in then drills them into Emma over and over and over, until Emma’s mind can only focus on the mayor’s body and her pleasure.

 

“Oh god…” her arms grab onto Regina, anchoring herself, and she buries her face in the crook of her neck. “R-Regina,” she stutters, hips going wild. “M-more,” and she doesn’t know what exactly she’s asking more of, but Regina increases her speed and pushes in harder.

 

“Come for me,” she whispers, the gentle kiss to her temple a complete contrast to the roughness of her movements. The smell of their arousal fills the air, but she doesn’t care one bit when she’s calling out Regina’s name for a second time.

 

Once she’s breathing evenly, Regina’s kissing her again, but Emma tugs on her until she’s parting her legs and pressing her knees on either side of Emma’s head. Regina’s vagina might just be the most glorious thing she’s ever laid eyes on. Stroking the backs of Regina’s thighs, she peppers kisses on the inside of them as fingers curl into her hair and tug.

 

Regina gives her a stern look before lowering herself. Emma’s chuckles are muffled by her mouth becoming slick with the taste of Regina. This might be even better than before, because like this she’s _everywhere,_ and Emma licks sloppily, greedily lapping with her eyes closed, taking note of Regina’s sighs and hums and the way she moans and jerks her hips down.

 

Regina shudders through another orgasm before sliding off Emma’s face and laying down beside her in the limited space of the couch. They both pant and take deep breaths, curling into each other’s arms. “That was amazing,” Emma says, chuckling and snuggling herself up into Regina. Hugging her closer so she won’t fall off to the floor.

 

“Indeed it was,” Regina whispers, stroking her back and holding her tight.

 

They stay like this for a while, comforting each other and making light conversation. It’s only when they become aware of how sticky they feel that they go upstairs and stumble into the shower one by one. Emma borrows some of Regina’s clothes as they mayor slides into a pair of checked pyjama bottoms Emma never would have believed she would own.

 

“You look good in those,” Emma says, walking across the bedroom before gently pecking her lips. Regina smiles softly, linking their hands and directing her down the stairs.

 

Once they find themselves back on the couch, Regina worries her lip. “I hope you don’t feel like we rushed into things.”

 

“Probably-” she shrugs, but she feels light, _fantastic,_ and as if she’s ready to tackle the world. “But I’m glad we did.”

 

Regina blows out a breath, “So am I.” They have a moment of gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. “Would you…like to watch a movie or, do something date-like?”

 

Emma chuckles, “Yeah, that’d be fun,” and it’s exactly how they end up with a bowl of popcorn, a blanket wrapped around their shoulders and Emma’s head resting on Regina’s shoulder as they start Shrek. Emma has no idea if she’s seen the movie before, but either way she’s glad she gets to experience it with Regina.

 

It’s hilarious and ridiculous and when Regina nudges her shoulder, “You’re donkey,” Emma pouts hard until donkey starts to swoon the dragon and Emma lets out a bark of laughter. Regina looks to her sternly, poking her in the ribs. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

 

“But it’s so you! You’re all threatening and scary looking, but a big softie on the inside. You’re so the dragon.” Regina throws a piece of popcorn at her, but Emma just grins before snuggling back into the brunette, sighing at the arm that wraps around her.

 

“I’m a queen and a bit more refined” she mutters and then breaks into laughter when she doesn’t know where _that_ came from. Emma giggles and curls up her legs so her knees rest on Regina’s lap.

 

Regina swoons at the princess when she mentions true love’s kiss, and Emma bites her cheek and doesn’t tell her about the dreams she’s been having. “Who knew you were a hopeless romantic?” she says instead, smiling smugly up at Regina.

 

“Not _hopeless,_ but I can’t say if that existed it wouldn’t be something that I would want.” She shrugs a shoulder and presses her lips to Emma’s head.

 

It’s completely forgotten about when _I need a hero_ is playing and the giant ginger bread man falls to the ground. Emma looks up to the sound of sniffles. “Are you crying?”

 

Regina doesn’t have it in her to lie about it. “It’s the ginger bread man!” she says, wiping beneath her eyes before sinking into the couch. They switch positions, so Emma can wrap around her and hold her tight. Because apparently, the hard ass mayor is crying over the death of an animated ginger bread man. It’s _adorable_ and being wrapped up in a blanket and (hopefully her future) soft girlfriend’s arms is what she deserves.

 

Henry comes in at some point, and he shakes his head at them and kisses Regina on the forehead then shrugs and does the same with Emma. “I’m glad you guys stopped being idiots,” he says before plonking down on the other couch.

 

“Me too,” Emma says softly, and they glance at each other, then the three of them watch the ending of the movie. Henry goes up to bed once it’s finished, leaving them alone once more.

 

Everything’s perfect, even more so when they stay snuggled, and Regina’s head is still on Emma’s shoulder, fingers softly brushing over her hand. “You could stay,” she says softly.  

 

Emma worries her lower lip, “Isn’t it too soon?”

 

“Emma. We had sex.”

 

Emma chuckles, “I know, but…”

 

“But?” Regina tips her head sideways, rubbing it gently against Emma’s.

 

There is no ‘but’ not when this feels right. “It doesn’t feel too soon,” Emma whispers, sitting up to stare into Regina’s eyes.

 

Regina’s knuckles brush down her cheek, “Then stay.”

 

So Emma does, integrating herself into the mansion and this tiny little family she wants so badly to call her own; she crawls into Regina’s arms and stays there all night. She feels as if she had been waiting a lifetime for this, for them, searching in all the wrong places until she finally found her way back home. She closes her eyes and she wills her dreams to come, because having Regina lying next to her isn’t enough, she wants to see her in her sleep as well, fight flying demons with her, move the moon. Nothing feels impossible to her anymore. She’s home.


	8. Chapter 8

_End of School Year_

The next few weeks are pure heaven. From real dates where they get dressed up and eat at a fancy restaurant, walk hand in hand under the moonlight, then spend hours pleasuring one another, to the days spent as a family, picnics and movies, to the lazy Sunday mornings filled with kisses and Regina in nothing but one of her shirts, a cup of coffee in her palms and a lopsided smile.

 

She doesn’t hesitate to show up at the mansion with another bouquet of flowers, smiling sheepishly before planting a kiss to Regina’s lips. “Will you be my date to the dance?” she asks, wringing her hands together until Regina sweeps her up for a kiss, drags her up the stairs for some amazing afternoon sex and gives her the answer with the unending, _yes’_ that spills from her lips effortlessly.

 

They’d been keeping the nature of their relationship between them, and well, other than Henry, (and Ruby who guessed _immediately_ ), the only person she’s told is Mary Margaret. Mainly because she always has a glow about her now, and Mary Margaret never fails to note how happy Emma looks. She’d even offered to take her in if she ever wanted to move out.

 

(Killian still hasn’t left no matter how much he talks about sailing across the ocean, instead spending most of his time in the basement. Doing what? She doesn’t know. She rather not find out so she doesn’t ask.

 

Frankly, she doesn’t care).

 

“So,” Mary Margaret says as she slides into the chair during lunch. “Are you excited about tonight?”

 

Emma pushes her lips together and nods, “I’m hoping I’ll get to dance with Regina.” She can’t believe how quickly the time has passed, and what a difference those months had made. From Regina sneering at her during the committee meeting, to where they are now – which includes a healthy dose of innuendos during those meetings where Emma giggles and twiddles with her hair and Mary Margaret turns a deep shade of red. It’s surprising no one has caught on yet. Or maybe they have and are being polite enough to pretend they haven’t.

 

“I’ll make sure the playlist includes a few slow songs. Wouldn’t want either of you missing out.” She winks and Emma gets a giddy feeling in her gut. “Things are going well between you two?”

 

“Yeah-” her smile makes her eyes shine. “Everything feels right, you know? Even when she pisses me off, I know it won’t matter in the end. I just love being with her and Henry. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy.”

 

Mary Margaret’s face melts before she’s reaching out and taking Emma’s hand. “I’m so pleased for you. I never imagined you’d end up with the mayor, but if you’re both happy.” Emma nods quickly. It wasn’t something she ever imagined either, certainly not before when she had felt so incomplete.

 

Maybe Archie was right; she never did need memories to feel whole again.

 

That feeling stays with her all the way until later when she’s helping set up for the dance. Her palms are facing upwards to carry the table, Regina on the other end as they waddle sideways.  Emma snickers, which earns her a glare before they place the table down in its designated area. “You looked like a penguin,” Emma says, acting all goofy as she walks around the table. “I’m dating a penguin.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes, “You’re such a child.”

 

Her arms wrap around Emma’s waist anyway before she tips forwards to press a quick kiss to Emma’s lips. She hums and closes her eyes, ignoring the gasps and chatter that follows through the school gym. Who cares if everyone knows? Quite frankly, she wants the entire universe to know that’s she’s dating the one and only Regina Mills.

 

“It’s a good job I like you,” Regina says, arms wrapped around Emma’s lower back. “Or I would find a way to create one of those fire balls you keep telling me about and throw it at your ass.”

 

Emma pouts, “But you love my ass. I saw you checking it out earlier.”

 

“Oh…I was-” her wide eyes morph to a smirk before she’s leaning in for another kiss. Emma hums against her soft lips, eyes closed, as she relaxes into her.

 

When they pull back she looks tentatively at Regina, biting her lip before letting it slip from between her teeth. “Does this mean we’re official?” Emma asks, flickering her gaze around to catch a few people staring.

 

“We were always “official”. But it’s time everyone knows who my girlfriend is.”

 

“Girlfriend?” Emma arches a brow, bouncing on her feet, and chuckling when Regina nods before pressing their lips back together. And if it’s a bit longer than what is considered proper, who can blame her? They have an audience to please after all.

 

* * *

 

The lights within the school gym lower, spotlights running along the make-shift dance floor as the music softens. Their theme “Heroes and Villains” had been received with great enthusiasm and all the students and teachers had showed great effort with their costumes. The teenagers partner off, slow dancing in time to the music. Emma watches them from behind the drinks station, smiling softly at Henry dancing with his _date._ It only grows when he valiantly takes her hand and walks them off the dance floor to where a few people are shuffling, eyes flicking around awkwardly.

 

She keeps her eyes on him, heart growing when he takes the hand of one boy dressed as a squire and directs him across the room. Henry says something to him, and he nods, flicking his eyes over Henry’s shoulder to where someone else is watching them intently. _The little matchmaker,_ Emma thinks. Then Henry’s dragging the blushing boy to the guy he’s most certainly crushing on, and after a pat on the back, the two boys hold hands and walk into the dance floor together.

 

Emma’s eyes are wet by the time Henry has collected all the stragglers, found his date – a lovely girl named Grace, and pulled them all onto the dance floor. From where she’s standing it looks like a real fairy tale. She only shifts her eyes away when the presence of a warm body saddles up behind her. “Would you care for this dance?” Regina asks, and Emma spins with shining eyes.

 

“You’re such an amazing mom,” she says, running her hands up the red dress that floats down to her ankles. Her palms brush over the material until her hands are resting on Regina’s shoulders. “Henry’s such a great kid.”

 

Regina nods, “He is,” and places her hands on Emma’s hips. They sway gently in time to the music, eyes only on each other.

 

“Have I told you yet that you look incredible?” Emma asks, eyes dipping to the exposed cleavage.

 

“Only ten times on the way over.” Regina smiles, her hands slipping to Emma’s lower back and closing more distance between them. She’d made a joke about dressing as the queen from her dreams, and Emma is not disappointed. It’s a velvety red dress, smoothing over her curves, and she’s curled her hair to one side and she looks _phenomenal._

 

“As do you, darling.” Regina pecks her lips tenderly, before pulling back to admire the outfit.

 

Emma had seen the moment of surprise when she’d arrived at the mansion and wasn’t wearing a dress, but the way Regina had roamed her eyes and hummed boasted her confidence. She had been a little nervous about her outfit choice, mainly because everyone seemed to presume she would be wearing a princess style dress. Although she could see herself rocking one on occasion, with her princess curls and fluttering eye lashes, it’s not her.

 

She’d joked and told Regina she was the knight to her queen, but then Regina had swept her up in a kiss and said they could rule this fantasy land of hers together or run away and leave the fools to fend for themselves. It’d turned her smile all goofy, because she felt seen, as if she could step outside of all the boxes society created for her and still be wanted.

 

Their chests lightly brush as they sway, eyes only for each other until they end up flushed together, with their cheeks resting against one another’s. Emma closes her eyes, arms wrapping around Regina’s neck and sighs at the heartbeat that pounds through Regina’s chest in time with her own.

 

Their breathing evens out, slow and steady, and Regina lowers her head so her cheek rests on Emma’s shoulder. Her arms gently wrap around the mayor, head tipping to the side. “T’is nice,” she mumbles, receiving a faint hum from the woman in her arms. If only they could stay like this forever, she thinks, imagining what it would be like if they were wearing white and had just promised their lives to each other.

 

Emma’s falling hard, but she dives straight into the freefall without hesitation. “Regina,” she whispers, kissing her temple sweetly before her eyes flutter open. They widen then hardened at the figure crossing the dance floor. “Regina,” she says, urgency now lacing her tone. “Regina.”

 

“Hmm?” She pops her head up, all dreamlike, but Emma’s clenching jaw has her whipping around. “What the hell?!”

 

Killian stomps to the back of the room, eyes hardened, and fists clenched by his sides. “You lied to me.” A few heads turn his way, but the children don’t appear to notice and carry on dancing. It’s lucky they’re in the corner of the room near the drinks stand. The last thing Emma wants is to cause a scene.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks as Regina untangles herself from Emma and looks between them. Her eyes are squinting, suddenly unsure of her place, and Emma needs more than anything to reassure her that he’s here uninvited. That she hasn’t been lying to anyone, that… “What are you talking about?”

 

Emma swivels her head around the room, cringing at the people watching them. She places her hand on Killian’s arm, but he shakes it away. “You shouldn’t be here,” she hisses, “at least let’s go outside.”

 

Regina crosses her arms, one eyebrow arching as she regards them. “Lied about what?” she asks, and when Killian finally looks at her, eyes clinging to her outfit, his hand runs through his unkept hair. “So?” She sounds every much like the queen she’s dressed up as, but he clenches his jaw and turns back to Emma.

 

“You told me you weren’t seeing her.”

 

Regina scoffs, shakes her head and turns to leave.

 

“Regina…” Emma grits her teeth, because if he screws this up for them she’ll chuck him onto a damn boat and push it into the ocean herself. “No. I told you Regina wasn’t the reason why I broke up with you. We’d be over where I was, seeing Regina or not.”

 

Emma doesn’t want to find out whether or not Regina will be there when she turns around, she knows she’s fucked up but her head twists over her shoulder despite her fear of disappointment. She sighs dejectedly, spinning fully, and smiles weakly when she sees Regina has stayed put. The mayor nods, and Killian’s rage blooms in his face. Before Emma can stop him, he moves towards Regina as a group of the adults cluster together and walk away from them. His breath stinks of alcohol and Regina flinches at his proximity.

 

Her eyes go wide with fear and helplessness; they find Emma and almost _plead with her_. “Killian!” Her voice is wobbly and high pitched, shaking in time to Regina’s feet stuttering backwards. His face is…is twisted, and a darkness in his eyes swirls and swirls, causing something to spark in Emma’s gut. He’s obviously out of control. “Get away from her!” she shouts, her gut clenches when he is a step from reaching her, when a sudden force that plants her in place grows inside of her and several images flash behind her eyes at once.

 

 _"You're Henry's birthmother?"_ _her insides alight with wonder._

“ _Welcome back._ ” _-A truce._

_“_ _I’m a fan of every part of you.” -A challenge._

  _“I’m an idiot.” -A tease._

_“I’ll never stop fighting for us.” -A test._

_“But maybe I need you.” -An alliance._

_“I love you” -Acceptance (resignation?)_

 

_And then_

_"You've worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed." –Her choice_

_And she'd taken on the darkness without hesitation, without once caring about what it might mean for her._

 

 

_Then Hook had been on the brink of death. The moment she had thought she could save him, that she should save him, the darkness latchtched onto her, enhancing her insecurities. It had whispered infeasible promises in her ears, promises about being good enough, about last chances, and before she realized what she had done, he had stood beside her, with dark eyes and a vengeful smile._

 

 

_He poofed away, and moments later Regina was running towards her, eyes angry, betrayed, and her heart concealed. She’d stalked towards Emma. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" And the indignation had caused every pent up feeling to bubble and burst over the edges. Regina had stopped then, ran her eyes the length of her black leather and tight hair, as if looking at her for the first time._

_"What am I doing?" She'd sneered, “I just saved the only person who loves me.”_

_Regina’s jaw had clenched then, eyes stinging when she’d finally looked away. “You’re an idiot, Emma Swan” she’d hissed, head snapping towards where Emma stood eyes darker than the blackest night. “You can’t go around doing anything you want. There are consequences to think about, people.”_

_“I_ _didn’t see you complaining when I became this for you.” Regina’s eyes startled, but Emma had been too pent up with all the emotions she’d been hiding. Emotions that now flooded through her system without restraint, without fear of consequences, anything else be dammed. “At least he wants me."_

 

_“And I don’t?”_

_“Do you?”_

_Regina had sucked in a breath and stood very still. Never had Emma been so upfront with this ethereal dance of theirs. The corner of Emma’s lip twitched up into an evil smirk as a response, before stepping forwards, grabbed Regina’s robe and yanked her towards her so she could bruise her lips with an all consuming kiss._

_It was supposed to prove a point, to call Regina on her bullshit, to drive her away. Instead Regina had dived forwards, arms circling Emma’s neck pulling her impossibly closer._

_They’d kissed as if everything else in the world had disintegrated and this was the last moment they would ever have. They’d kissed for every second they’d ached over their forbidden feelings. They’d kissed until the_ _darkness_ _had lifted inch by_ _inch, until they felt pure magic spreading between them, then outwards and lightening the sky._

_Only then had Regina stumbled backwards, eyes wide and haunted._

_Instantly Emma’s hair fell down to her shoulders, black leather disappearing until she once again stood in white. Color had come back to her face and an awkward smile replaced her permanent smirk. Regina’s hands still in hers._

_But then Regina had gone. Wafting her hands as if she had been burnt until purple smoke had covered her whole, and she’d hid away, avoiding everyone, Emma most of all._

_Emma had felt rejected then. Not enough. Never enough. Still Regina hadn’t wanted her, not even after sharing true love’s kiss._

_So she’d brooded, hid away, much like Regina, unable to decide what to do next. She was happy to be rid of her curse, of curse she was, she wasn’t ungrateful; but she wasn’t sure the cost was one she was willing to pay. She had pushed Regina away once and for all and she didn’t know how to fix it, if she could fix it. So she went back to her new room in Camelot, hid in the darkness and felt sorry for herself, and before she even had the chance to tell anyone she was back, before she could figure how to go about regaining Regina’s trust, a thick red smoke had crawled over her, ripping everything away before they'd ever gotten a chance to say goodbye._

 

 

Instinctively Emma shoots her arms out, propelling a blast of magic that sends him flying into the air. A faint gasp spreads through the room and wide eyes stare at her. Until he lands in a heap, and magic booms in the air and the startled stares of confusion suddenly morph to shock and understanding. Then she’s meeting Regina’s eyes from across the room.

 

They’re blown wide open, her arms tense in front of her and lips parted. Emma swallows, not knowing what to do, what to say, how to make this right. All she can do is stare into eyes she’d been avoiding, then taunting and dreaming about, and she sees their transformation almost in slow motion, they turn shielded, haunted, in a way they hadn’t been for months, the ones which show nightmares Emma can only begin to imagine.

 

Eyes that suddenly look away from her.

 

Chatter spreads across the gym as people collide and run out of it, calling loved ones or falling down to the ground in a heap. Emma can hardly blame them. She wants to sink into Regina, to hold her, but when the woman she loves turns away from her, walking to Snow of all people, she knows they’re back to where they had been in Camelot. Unable to pass through the barrier of friendship.

 

Their _relationship_ wiped away as if it had never existed at all.

 

“Ma!” Henry calls, shoes squeaking across the room. Emma turns towards him, the thoughts evaporating, and she sighs so deeply until that ache she’d felt for months disappears as his body crashes into her.

 

Her arms are around him instantly; eyes squeezed shut, “ _Henry.”_

 

They pull away and Emma cups his cheek, smiling down at her son. _Her son._ “I love you,” she says, planting a kiss to his forehead.

 

“I love you too, mom.”

 

That doesn’t stop him from pulling away, because no matter how much they have bonded over the years, his relationship with Regina is fierce and untouchable. He’s turning towards where she’s standing with her arms wrapped around her middle, off to the side as Snow moves away to reassure the people of the town.

 

Henry walks across the room and it’s enough for her eyes to light up. He walks straight into her arms, and she closes her eyes and breathes him in. Emma watches them for a moment, a calmness washing through her as she does.

 

“Emma…” Snow says, worry in her voice.

 

She twists and comes face to face with her mother. The person who has been there for her through it all. When she had been feeling lost and in need of a friend. When she’d needed advice, when she’d accidently come out and… _OMG Emma had talked to her about her sex life with Regina,_ but she had been there to support her. It still makes her grimace, “Hi,” but Snow shakes her head then wraps her arms tightly around her daughter. “Mom,” she mutters, chin on her shoulder and melts into the embrace.

 

“What in the world happened?” Snow asks, stroking a hand up and down her back. “One second we were in Camelot and the next we wake up here? Are you still the Dark One? You look fine!”

 

Emma simply shrugs, closes her eyes and hopes for them to finally have the relationship she’d been dreaming of. Not one where she’s demanded to fit the roles they deemed her fit for, or one where her feelings are never considered, but one where she can be herself and still be loved.

 

When she pulls back, Snow gently grips her arms. “Are you okay?” and Emma nods on automatic, spinning around and skimming her eyes around the room to assess the damage. Regina’s still talking to Henry, and she keeps her gaze on them. Snow chuckles lightly, “I’m not sure how I feel about _that,”_ and Emma’s world crumbles when it’s supposed to be being put back together.

 

Emma bites her lip, expression unable to hide her sadness or longing. Her mother might love her, but maybe not the parts she needs loving the most. “Yeah,” Emma says, wringing her hands together and attempts to chuckle. “This is all such a mess.”

 

“I need to go,” she says, gripping Emma’s arm. She twists her head over her shoulder to meet her mother’s gaze. “I’m sure your father will be going out of his mind. And Neal will need me.”

 

Emma nods stiffly, “Yeah,” she says thickly, “go, we can figure this out and come and find you later.”

 

It’s only when Snow leaves that she whips her head around the gym to where Hook had been lying on the ground. Except he’s fast gone, just like her mother, her parents, even Regina, and she remembers exactly why she had given herself over to him to begin with. 

 

* * *

 

Emma stands with her arms crossed in the kitchen, humming and feeling as if there’s a vice around her neck preventing her from contributing. Her eyes sting constantly, and she’s blinking and ducking her head hoping no one will notice. Snow and David huddle on the couch, Regina standing beside them as Henry sits on the floor and plays with Neal.

 

They’d met at the loft soon after Snow had attempted to calm the people of the town – it hadn’t taken much, not surprisingly, for their lives had remained relatively unchanged. Hook hasn’t resurfaced yet, and they’re all on edge about the potential of him showing up unexpectedly. Not that they have come up with any reasonable solution on how to deal with this. They are still in shock after all.

 

“It was a lazy imitation of mine,” Regina says, “his curse had too many holes and no one had as much free will under mine. No wonder it was broken so easily.”

 

“That’s nice to know,” Snow mutters, but the look they share is affectionate.

 

Regina swallows then looks down towards her twiddling fingers. She’s surprised it had lasted the months it had. There was no magic, but if his own _fiancée_ had been the one to break through that first crack then clearly that idiot hadn’t thought things through. Her eyes flicker to Emma who has still to contribute to the conversation. “We’re lucky Emma’s magic activated when it did.”

 

Emma’s eyes startle as if she hadn’t realised she had been in the room. She looks to Regina with the faintest of nods and receives one in return. It probably doesn’t mean all that much, but she holds onto it and imagines a time where they’re back on solid ground. Her stomach flips and her eyes are stinging again. She wants nothing more than for things to go back to the way there were. When things were good and happy and safe, not rocky and unknown and terrifying.

 

Regina hating had once been the norm, but when it’s the result of her own choices rather than a destiny she had no control over, it leaves her feeling empty. She probably doesn’t _hate_ Emma, but they haven’t said much to each other and every time she tries to approach her, Regina curls in on herself. She’s been lonely all her life but standing here, surrounded by those who are supposed to love her without limits, she has never felt so alone.

 

They chatter amongst themselves after that, and Emma slowly sinks inside herself. They talk about curses, life, death, how they should have handled things differently, better.  (And by things they mean _her as the dark one)_. Emma listens to every word, but still can’t find it in herself to say anything. Just when she thought she had found everything. She feels lost.

 

Snow gets a wistful smile, “I suppose it makes sense,” she says, “as the dark one it brought forwards all his deepest desires. To have Emma. To love her.”

 

She grits her teeth, only briefly flickering her offended eyes to her mother before looking away. She hadn’t seen, luckily, but it still guts Emma.

 

Regina snorts, “Love?” and it makes Emma feel a miniscule better. Regina’s eyes flicker back to her briefly, and she breathes easier for the few seconds her gaze remains on her. Like she isn’t invisible. Like maybe she means something even after she had clearly screwed up.

 

“You don’t trap someone you love,” Henry says, and his eyes flicker to Regina’s from across the room. With the forgotten memories flying free through their minds, the weight of the words settle over the pair. Regina had held on too tightly, but the instant her grip had bordered on constricting she let Henry go freely. He smiles at her, and Regina’s heart beats loudly against her ribcage.

 

“I suppose not,” Snow says, and finally brings her focus on her daughter who always seems to be an afterthought for her. “Did he say anything to you before casting the curse?”

 

Emma snaps her head up, quickly concealing her features. “We didn’t really talk much after…” Regina’s gaze is intense enough for her stomach to lurch, and she doesn’t understand how such an amazing moment feels like this.

 

“You were the ones who were there,” Regina says. “Didn’t he say anything to you before casting it?”

 

“It all happened so fast,” David says. They’d already recounted the details of how Hook had killed Merlin whilst they’d been at Granny’s, and there hadn’t been enough time for them to stop him.

 

The room falls silent once again until Snow stands, “Would anyone like a hot drink?” she offers then walks to Emma’s almost hiding spot. There’s a faint murmur, but she’ll be making them anyway. She places a hand on Emma’s arm, squeezing gently, but it’s taken away too quickly. She’s never needed so much reassurance in her life.

 

She takes a breath then lifts her chin up. “I’m sorry,” she says, clearing her throat. “I know I fucked up.” If it wasn’t for her actions, Hook would have never been able to cast the curse. The guilt grows for every second no one says anything in response.

 

“We’ve suffered worse curses,” Snow says. “Luckily we escaped unharmed.” Regina scoffs, her dismissal causing Emma’s heart to clench. Snow turns to face her, arms crossed. “Regina…come on. Nothing bad happened. I know you-” her head twists to Emma then back to Regina, before she turns a bright shade of red despite herself.

 

For a moment Regina smirks. The instant Regina opens her mouth to increase Snow’s embarrassment, however, she snaps it shut. The chuckle is filled with despair, it’s dark, twisted, and every much belonging to the queen she had once been. “This isn’t the first time someone in your family has managed to rip my choices away.”

 

Emma’s mouth opens and a pang hits her chest. Regina’s arms wrap around herself. Emma takes a step forward, but Regina shakes her head with a wet chuckle before their eyes meet.

 

“You regret it?” Emma whispers, forgetting everyone else is in the room. She doesn’t care, all she’s concerned about is finding a way to make this better. She doesn’t know if she can. Perhaps if Regina had had the choice, she never would have chosen like she had under the curse. Emma’s blood runs cold.

 

Regina’s wet eyes lower, her hands clasping by her middle. Immediately she regrets asking. Especially in front of the family who are silently watching them, judging them. Regina stretches out her fingers by her side, looking at no one in particular. “We both made our choices,” she says dully, fisting both hands.  Her dark eyes lower to the ground before she manages to lift them again, and for a tiny moment they turn soft for Emma. “It’s wasn’t the same.”

 

It might not have been the same, but the pain of everything that had come before flickers so delicately in Regina’s eyes. Emma wants to reach in and pull those dark places free until Regina never looks at her like that again. She nods once, because she knows there is a ‘but’ at the end of Regina’s sentence but that she doesn’t want to force it out.

 

Emma wants to apologise, but she hadn’t known either. She hopes Regina knows that. So She nods again, before staring down to her feet with a tightness in the back of her throat. She can’t bring herself to look at the shadow in Regina’s eyes. She feels like she’s responsible for putting it there.

 

“What exactly happened between you two?” David asks, looking at each of them in turn, completely oblivious.

 

“We erm…” it trails off because Emma’s not sure if Regina is ready for others to know. Not that she needs to finish, the redness that crawls up her neck says enough.

 

 _“Oh-”_ David’s eyebrows rise as Snow looks away. “You guys…?” Regina clears her throat, arms crossing and offers a simple nod. “You knew about this?” he asks Snow. Her lips press together as she nods quickly, spinning to finish making coffee. “I suppose it’s not that surprising.”

 

Snow drops the spoon into the mug as Emma snaps her head towards him. “What?”

 

“Excuse me?” Regina scoffs. 

 

“With what happened in Camelot and all…”

 

Their movements freeze, because they haven’t spoken about what had happened in Camelot. “I wasn’t sure if anyone else knew,” Emma says, wanting to go back to that moment and hold onto it forever.

 

“We felt the blast on the other side of Camelot,” Snow mutters, arms resting on the side and leans over them. She starts again, “Who else-”

 

“I’m not here for some true love bullshit speech,” Regina snaps.

 

Emma freezes… one second, two seconds, then she swallows hard on the third. By the fourth her eyes are wet, and the fifth she wants to sink into a hole. It takes ten for a tear to roll down the curve of her nose, and when she wipes it away Regina focuses her attention directly on her. _I’m not good enough_ is her single thought. _We shared true loves kiss_ _and I’m still not good enough for you._

 

“Emma…”

 

Finally she remembers she has magic again, so she waves her hands and is instantly engulfed in white smoke before she has to come face to face with the reality that the only person who truly wants her is the man who had cursed her and ripped her family away.

 

* * *

 

She stalks around the docks after a fitful night of sleep and dozens of missed calls. She’d sent a quick text to Henry, but other than that she’s gone off the grid. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. If Hook will be here. If she even wants to see him. Perhaps he’s dangerous; he killed Merlin and curse them all, but she’s lost and being here seems easier.

 

The brisk morning air whips angrily across her face, but that’s nothing compared to the chill that runs through her veins when the black smoke finally appears. “Ah…Swan-” he smirks, eyes circled dark and in leather. “Already realised you’re nothing without me?”

 

She sighs, “I’m not here for your games, Hook.”

 

He lifts his right hand where the hook has made an appearance once again. “And what games would that be?” he asks, walking with a flair in his step as if he hadn’t just lost everything.

 

“Why did you do it?” It’s the only thing she wants to know. She probably should feel angry, but everything in her is so deflated all she really wants is a hug.

 

“For us,” he says, coming closer, his head tipped to the side as if he’s looking at someone else. It’s odd, but Emma’s grateful that at least he isn’t giggling and has scaly skin. “Don’t you want us to finally be together?”

 

She shakes her head, “No!” then pushes his hand away. “You wiped my memories and took me away from my family! What makes you think I’d ever be with you again?”

 

“Ah-” he taps his finger against his lips, “I didn’t wipe your memories, love. You were supposed to have new ones. _Better_ ones. A flaw in the curse, really.” He shrugs the rest of it off as if that’s the part that they should be most concerned about. “And…I could have just made you my wife, but I wanted something real. For us. You and I, Swan. I thought you loved me. You said so yourself.”

 

“Stop saying that. You’re an asshole who only cares about yourself!” And she’s regretting coming here, because she’d rather be alone than with him, but she knows why she’s here, there’s still guilt hanging heavy in her chest. “Look I’m…I’m sorry for-” she gestures, but before she can finish the sentence Rumple’s face appears behind him, followed by a dagger being plunged into Hook from behind.

 

“You’ll have to save it for another time, dearie,” he says, twisting it in as Hook’s eyes go wide, instantly and effortlessly the darkness flies free and happily goes back into its previous owner. Rumple pulls the knife back with a satisfied smirk as Hook’s body falls to the ground, eyes still fixated on her. And Emma can do nothing more than watch in horror as the man she had thought she had loved, falls lifeless right in front of her, once again.


	9. Epilogue

_The funeral_

Emma finds herself back in Archie’s office. He doesn’t comment when she sinks to the ground and curls around the dog. Pongo almost snuggles into her as if he knows exactly what she needs. “Do we know why you were having the dreams?” Archie asks.

 

“Because I’m the saviour?” she says in a mocking tone, “honestly, we don’t know anything. Regina seems to think Hook’s curse was weak, and Rumple’s gone off the grid. With Hook being gone…” she swallows, turning her attention to Pongo, stroking him gently.

 

“How do you feel about his death?”

 

Emma shrugs and sighs deeply. “Dunno.” How exactly is she supposed to feel? She swings from anger over his actions, to relief that he’s gone, to a sense of longing. “I didn’t want him to die,” she whispers shakily, “It’s my fault.”

 

“Because you turned him into a dark one?” Emma nods, knowing if she hadn’t he would have died anyway and she’s sure she would have felt guilt over not saving his life instead. She groans and tips her head backwards over the couch. Thank God for therapy.

 

“The funeral is in two days and my mom wants me to say something.” She shrugs, resigned.

 

“And do you want to?” At that Emma looks up, he’s the first person who has even bothered to ask for her opinion. Not that it matters.

 

She shrugs, because all she can remember from that particular interaction is Regina’s face when she’d instantly caved to Snow and said yes. She’d smoothed her features over by the time Emma had run out of the loft to catch up to her. “You’ll be there, right?” Emma had asked, desperate for some normalcy between them. A reality where they’re there for each other, no matter the circumstances.

 

Regina had swallowed, body so rigid she had looked on the verge of shattering. Then she’d given her the faintest of nods. That was until Emma’s eyes had welled. “I’ll be there,” she’d whispered, assuring her, then she had held Emma’s hands and squeezed. Her lips had brushed Emma’s left cheek. She’d swayed in place, eyes closed, leaning into the touch.

 

“No one cares what I want,” she tells Archie. Especially not her mother who’d eyed her curiously when she had gone back into the loft. On the odd occasion Emma had let her mind wander to her developing feelings, she had wondered how her mother would take it all. Snow and Regina’s relationship predates everything, it’s so interwoven and complicated, but despite everything, they’d reached a good place. “I think I have to say something. Might help me move on.”

 

“Perhaps,” he says. “If that’s what you want.”

 

“Yeah…perhaps.” It’s another death she can add to her list. Something that will never quite heal right or have closure over. “I had already moved on from him, though.”

 

“Under the curse?”

 

“I know it’s not the same, but…yeah. I already had.” She faces Pongo and snuggles further into him. She wants Regina more than anything, but the mayor’s walking around town like a porcelain doll. One wrong move and she’s going to shatter to the ground. “Can we keep up our sessions?”

 

“Of course, Emma. I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

 

* * *

 

At Granny’s Emma sits in the corner of the booth, nursing a whiskey. Not many people had shown up for the funeral, too busy putting their own lives back together, but they had turned up for the wake to offer her their condolences. The smiles are a little forced, but Emma accepts them all then doesn’t know what to do with them. Her eyebrows sky rocket when Regina slides into the booth next to her.

 

“I grew tired of them idolising him,” she mutters, nursing her own drink. “I didn’t see them so easily forgiving me after my curse broke. I doubt they would have even if I would have died.”

 

Emma flinches, about to say something when Snow slips in opposite them. “You did keep us cursed for twenty-eight years though, and we know that Hook did it out of love. It’s not as if you had as good a reason.” At that Regina grows impossibly rigid, her hand shaking when she brings the tumbler to her lips. Snow frowns, as if she can’t possibly understand what she had said wrong.

 

“You know none of that is true,” Emma says, wishing she could pull Regina into a hug like she would have easily done a week ago. She less than discreetly diverts her gaze to the mayor, but when her lethal glare spares not even her, she whips her head away. She blows out a breath, falling back against the seat and runs a hand through her hair.

 

Snow frowns, “I know we’ve come a long way, Regina, but you can’t possibly still think there was a good enough reason to curse us all…”  

 

“Obviously not. My life was all sunshine and roses.” Regina laughs a dark chuckle, downing her drink then slamming the glass down. “Now if you’ll excuse me-” she pushes from the booth, but Emma grabs onto her wrist and tugs. She’s about to plead, to ask her to say, _just a little bit longer, for her,_ but she immediately yanks her arm back. “Don’t. Emma. _You_ were the one to turn him into a Dark One in the first place, but of course heroes never have to suffer consequences.”

 

Emma’s jaw tightens, betrayed, hands wrapped around her glass where she looks down into it. No consequences? She wants to laugh, or perhaps cry, but purple smoke surrounds Regina before she gets to do either.

 

* * *

 

“Your mom doesn’t want to see me, kid.” Emma had been surprised when he’d ask to meet her in the middle of the day. Henry and her had already talked things through. She had made sure he hadn’t been too traumatized by the new curse, and Henry had convinced her he had been ok. “I had you in my life anyways” he had assured her. “We always find each other.” And Emma had beamed a million-watt smile.

 

What’s even more surprising is he wanted to talk about Regina. She hasn’t told him this but she had called her, even left a couple of monotonous messages, but the mayor hadn’t surfaced in days. Honestly, she thought she was just avoiding her. She knows how stubborn the woman is, and it’s not like she can force Regina to see her, besides after how they had left things she isn’t sure she’s ready to see her either.

 

Henry bites his lip as if he has something more to add, but instead spins in the stool and wraps his hands around his hot chocolate. “Thanks Grandma,” he says, and Snow winks at him from where’s she sat on the couch with Neal in her lap. He blows over it and keeps his eyes on the hot drink. “I think she needs you.”

 

“Perhaps I should go and talk to her,” Snow says, though reluctantly.

 

Henry bites his lip, “I think she wants Ma. She’s been wearing one of her shirts for like two days straight.”

 

“She has?” Not that she wants to think about the shirts she’s left behind, or how Regina might look while wearing them.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Neal pushes from Snow’s lap and waddles over, his chubby arms out stretched. “Ma!” he calls, “Ma!” and Emma chuckles and picks up her baby brother.

 

“Hey little man.” She places him on her hip, snuggling him softly. “I missed you,” she whispers, not realising how true that was until he’s squealing happily in response. She might have once felt conflicted when it came to her bother, but he hasn’t done anything wrong. She bounces him lightly, “You’re getting so big.”

 

Henry reaches over to tickle under his chin, smiling when he giggles. “So, you’ll go and see her?” Henry insists.

 

“Yeah, kid. I will.” 

 

* * *

 

_Ogres are like onions_

 

Emma rocks in place with her arms filled with what she hopes will make this a tiny bit better. Henry answers the door, almost sagging in relief at the sight of her. Not that he can see much of his mother with the giant bear she has wrapped in her arms, but he smiles, gives her a one armed hug then directs her toward his other mother.

 

She takes a deep breath when she walks into the front room, the sound of footsteps alerting Regina to her presence. She looks up once, gaze connecting with Emma’s briefly as her head tips to the side with the tiniest of smiles. It falls when Regina places her head back down where she’s curled up on the couch, in pyjamas, no make-up, hair sprawled everywhere, and Emma knows just how lucky she is for she’s yet to be fireballed for seeing her like this.

 

She _has_ seen her like this before; her mind alters, all those nights she had stayed over under the curse.

Henry comes up from behind her, “She’s been watching it on repeat,” he whispers. “And she cries every time the ginger bread man dies. I keep telling her to watch something else, but…” he shrugs when Emma twists to look at him, and her eyebrows knit together as they share a knowing glance. “I’ve never seen her like this, Emma,” he confesses worriedly, he then tips his head towards Regina and Emma nods once. Henry leaves them to it, retreating to his room as Emma sits beside Regina’s bare feet.

 

“I thought you could use this more than me.” Emma places the giant bear Regina had won for her near her legs, hand gripped onto its fur as she holds her breath. Regina keeps watching the screen, but reluctantly reaches out then curls the fluffy bear to her chest, altering herself to rest her cheek on the stuffed animal as if it were a pillow. It’s like Regina is gone and there’s a shell of her in her place. “And I got you some more ice cream. Apple pie’s your favourite, right?” There’s a tub of raspberry ripple on the ground with a spoon in it, half eaten, but the top of it is melting and she knows from experience it won’t last much longer. “Want me to put it in the freezer?”

 

Regina doesn’t move, hasn’t even acknowledge her, and something in the back of Emma’s mind tells her that no matter how badly she wants to be there, she might not be welcome. She might be imposing. That maybe she shouldn’t be here. But then _you’re a girl dragon, I mean… of course you’re a girl,_ comes from the TV and a smirk pushes on Regina’s lips without her even realizing it. Emma is willing to fight her insecurities if it means she gets to witness more of those smiles, and so she grabs the abandoned tub then places it along with the new one in the freezer. Next go the frozen pizzas; one veggie, and the other filled with meat, then pulls out the bag of popcorn, the chocolate and chips.

 

She fills a glass with water, placing it on the ground next to the couch and the snacks go on the coffee table beside the vase of lilies that are curling over and browning. Emma’s chest tightens at the sight, a sappy reminder of better days; she pulls her eyes away and forces a smile before turning back around. “In case you get hungry…and before you say anything I know about your secret stash of chocolate Madame Mayor.”

 

When there’s still no response, she runs up the stairs to tell Henry she’ll be staying for a while, returning with a blanket she drapes over the mayor’s shoulders. Regina hums as Emma curls up on the other side of the couch.

 

* * *

 

She visits the following day, and much the same happens; on the third day after she’d cooked dinner and Henry had given Regina enough of a worried look to prompt her eat at least half, he hovers beside Emma when she’s about to leave. “I don’t think she’s sleeping,” he says, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Or she crashed on the couch. She was still there when I came down this morning.”

 

“She was?” Henry nods, and she tries to smile to convince him everything’s fine. It fails miserably, so she pulls him in for a hug. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she whispers, then goes back into the front room. Regina’s sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, eyes on the screen and for the first time twists her head when Emma sits beside her. “Okay if I stay a little longer?”

 

She nods and Henry trails into the room forcing a smile of his own, “I got the sequels. I think we can all recite the first one from start to finish by now.”

 

Regina smiles at him and he takes it as his cue to put on the second movie. Emma blows out a breath, “Thank god for sequels,” she says, nudging Regina’s side. “We need to find out what our donkey and dragon counterparts are up to.” Regina curls back up on her side, pulling the stuffed bear with her. Emma’s face falls until those bare feet poke out from beneath the blanket to push against her thighs. It takes until half way through the movie for Emma’s hand to travel to Regina’s ankle, but when she grips it gently, absentmindedly rubbing her thumb in circles, Regina sighs deeply.

 

Henry gives them a worried look before going off to bed, slightly relieved that his other mother is still here. Around midnight when Regina’s eyes are drooping Emma pats her leg. “Why don’t you go up to bed? I can clear up down here.”

 

It takes a minute, but Regina pushes herself up before dragging herself up the stairs. Emma clears up the kitchen before following her up, relieved at the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. She stalks downstairs until the shower stops, giving her a few minutes before knocking on her bedroom door.

 

“Just came to see if you needed anything before I head off?” Regina’s sat on the edge of the bed in a pair of clean pyjamas, hands in her lap and stating off into the ground. Emma comes fully into the room, “Why don’t you get yourself in bed?” she gently pushes, pulling back the covers as Regina slides under them.

 

Emma doesn’t have much experience at this, at giving (or receiving) comfort, but she pulls the covers up to Regina’s shoulders, lowering it until only her chin pops out. Regina’s eyes are wide and staring at her, Emma can clearly see the demons within them. Ones Emma wants to tug out and dispense of so Regina won’t need to spend another day fighting them. But she knows this is a battle she can’t fight. All she can do is press her hand into the bed so it dips, supporting her weight as she leans forwards to brush her lips over Regina’s forehead.

 

“Get some sleep,” she whispers, pushes her lips back down again to the sound of Regina’s hum, then pulls away. Regina’s eyes are closed, and Emma spends another moment taking her in. “Goodnight,” she says, slowly retreating out of the room before finding herself on the couch where she crashes for the night.

 

* * *

 

“I wanna watch the first one,” Regina mutters, and it’s the first thing she’s said in days so Emma and Henry don’t complain _much_. They might be tired of it, but if it got Regina to use her croaky voice then they’ll put themselves through it at least one more time.

 

Emma bites her lip and starts muttering along to the lines. Regina side eyes her for one second and that’s enough of an encouragement for her to start saying all of donkey’s lines. “But you gotta have friieendsss!” she sings, with a wide smile and animated movements.

 

“Stop singing!” Henry snaps, and the pair throws their heads back and laugh.

 

When they come back to themselves Regina has the tiniest of smirks in place. She shifts in place so her knees are on Emma’s lap, curling into her side. Emma sucks in a breath, swallowing at the head that lowers onto her shoulder. Her arms stiffen for a moment, before she slips one around Regina’s waist.

 

“Cake. Everybody likes cake!” Emma says, tugging on Regina then pressing a kiss to her temple. “Nobody likes onions.”

 

“You’re an idiot,” Regina mutters. She brings the blanket around both their shoulders then snuggles into Emma’s arms, closing her eyes and melting into her embrace.

 

Emma glances to Henry first, and they share a glace almost sighing in relief before she focuses back on Regina. “Your idiot,” she whispers, receiving a tiny little smirk that Emma holds onto for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

“You’re spending a lot of time at Regina’s,” Snow says on one of the rare occasions she goes to the loft. Regina’s progressing slowly, and they’ve gotten past watching Shrek at all hours of the day at least. She had even began engaging in general conversation, until Emma had asked what was wrong, and she’d clammed back up and ended up curled on the couch, tub of ice cream in her hands.

 

Emma has never seen Regina like this. The only time she’s ever pulled away was after her trip back in time, but back then they’d only just began scratching the surface of their friendship, so Emma hadn’t felt her absence as acutely. It wasn’t as if Emma was a welcome guest after she’d accidently destroyed what Regina perceived as her one shot of happiness. And Henry hadn’t said anything to her back then. Maybe it hadn’t been as bad.

 

“Regina needs me.” The words fly free without hesitation. And maybe she’s being a bit selfish but feeling so wanted makes some of her recent hurt less significant. It doesn’t make her feel happy, more like relieved. She’ll be happy once Regina is herself again.

 

“So, you guys are still…?” Snow spins and busies herself in the kitchen, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging between them.

 

Emma slides her hands into her jean pockets and shrugs, “I don’t know. Regina’s not up to talking right now. I’m surprised you haven’t gone to the mansion with a tray of lasagne or something.”

 

“I can make you something, if that will be easier?” she asks, spinning back around and looking a little more hopeful. “I wasn’t sure if Regina would want to see me. She seemed upset, and well, I’m not sure if I would make things worse. I say the wrong things sometimes.”

 

But to Emma it feels more like it’s Snow who doesn’t want to see Regina, which is odd, because she’s certain her mother has never stopped fighting for her. Even after their lowest moments, they have always managed to claw their way back to a relationship. “Yeah, thanks mom.” Emma hovers behind her waiting for her courage to grow enough to ask what she suspects is the real reason for her distance, “Would it bother you?”

 

“Would what bother me?” Snow leans on the kitchen counter, eyeing her daughter then nodding slowly with parted lips. “Oh…well, no, not if you’re both happy.”

 

“And me being…me being gay?” she asks, biting her lip and glancing out the window. She doesn’t want to see her reaction, any potential negative expression that might confirm her fear of not being good enough.

 

“Emma…you’re my daughter.” She isn’t sure if her mother is being supportive or not, but she nods. “And if I’m being honest, I’ve always wondered if there was more going on between you two. I saw the way you looked at each other.”

 

At that she frowns, bringing her curious gaze back to her mother. “You did?”

 

Snow chuckles, “Not that I ever believed either of you would admit it. Even after what happened in Camelot, I wouldn’t put it past either of you to pretend like it didn’t happen.”

 

Emma rocks back on her heels, “Sounds like us.”

 

“And I know how happy you were under the curse,” she says, causing Emma’s throat to tighten at the memories. Under the curse they had had no baggage, not titles, no morbid pasts; just feelings and it hadn’t taken them _that_ long to figure them out. “It might take a little bit of getting used to, but all I’ve ever wanted is for both of you to be happy.”

 

“Yeah-” she blows out a breath, feeling like maybe there’s still hope for them, like maybe it is possible to get onto a track where they hold an actual conversation, one where she talks and Snow listens. A mixture of cursed Mary Margaret and her mother Snow White, a balance where Snow sees Emma for who she is, and not who she always wanted her daughter to be. 

 

* * *

 

_I texted just to say I love you_

Emma lets herself into the mansion. “Regina,” she says softly, even though her footsteps echoing through the quiet mansion is a sure sign that she’s come as requested. The text message had thrown her off, and when there’s no response she pulls her cell from her jeans.

 

**Can we talk? x**

Simple, but Emma’s eyes stick on the little marker of the kiss and holds onto it as a sign that this isn’t going to result in her losing everything she’d been running from. It’s ironic; really, by the time she’d stopped running it had been too late. Everything was swept away from her and torn to shreds. But that’s nothing compared to when she enters the front room. Her breath hitches and Regina’s red rimmed eyes snap up.

 

“Regina?” Emma hurries forwards only stopping short of perching on the couch and tugging her into a hug. She’d been doing so well, but now Emma doesn’t know what to make of it. She shuffles in front of the couch instead, hands shaking by her sides when all the mayor does is lower her eyes and sniff. “Are you okay?” she asks slowly, even if it’s a stupid question.

Her answer comes in the form of Regina tilting her head forwards until it’s resting against Emma’s stomach. Emma’s fingers are quick to wrap around the messy dark hair, tugging gently.

 

“I got a clean slate,” Regina mutters into her stomach. Emma’s shirt becomes damp. She wraps her other arm around Regina’s shoulders, holding her closer and running over those words as if they are supposed to hold any meaning at all.

 

_A clean slate._

 

“You didn’t want me to break the curse?” There’s a faint hint of disbelief in her voice, but otherwise she looks down with soft eyes when Regina tips her head up. Emma’s knuckles brush down her cheek, then she does it again when Regina doesn’t pull away from the touch. She briefly considers suggesting casting another one, if that is what it takes for Regina to be whole again, she’ll do it.

 

“Of course I did,” Regina says hoarsely, moment of weakness over as she sits back and ruffles out her hair. She stops abruptly as if only now she’s noticing how unkempt it’s been. She waves a hand, using magic to style it and to clean the tears from her face, but her new shiny exterior fails to hide the turmoil inside of her, the pain crashing through her eyes like a tidal wave, the conflict of regret verse everything that came to pass. “I’ve missed that,” she says, chuckling lightly.

 

Emma takes a seat and offers a wry smile, “Yeah,” she mutters, because although she had spent a lot of time fearing her innate abilities, when she’d finally accessed her magic, it had felt as if a piece of her had been connected again.

 

They sit in an awkward silence for the next few moments, but whenever Emma goes to open her mouth she doesn’t quite know what to say. Comforting words won’t fix this, because no matter how much she loves Regina, her past was brutal. “I’m sorry I got us into this mess,” she mumbles, inching to reach out and touch her. She should be able to, considering everything else they had done to each other, but that time existed in a place where they had been free from the boxes they had been placed within.

 

_The Saviour and The Evil Queen._

_One destined to defeat the other…_

Then Regina’s shaking her head, giving her this look that Emma had never been able to pinpoint until now. _I saw the way you looked at each other._

 

“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” she says, smiling softly and her eyes hold untold depths of emotion ranging from pain to love as if her love for Emma _hurts._ “You’re not to blame for someone else’s actions.”

 

Emma nods tightly, “I know, but…” a hand finds her knee, reassuring, and it almost feels like hope. It’s enough for Emma to mutter, “Okay,” even if she isn’t fully capable of believing it.

 

“At least you didn’t cast the curse,” Regina says, taking a deep breath as she retracts the hand. Her eyes are down and the smile forced when she looks back up. When she sees that Emma isn’t smiling in return it drops, and Emma needs to reach out, to offer comfort, to…

 

“Two one to me,” Emma teases, bumping her shoulder.

 

“I beg your pardon?” and Regina sits up a little straighter, eyes squinting and for a moment, a single moment she shines through to the surface. “Whatever game you’ve just made up, I can assure you, you are not winning.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Madame Mayor.” She bumps her shoulder again, and the resulting eyeroll makes Emma’s stomach do a flip. “That’s two curses I’ve broken to your one. There’s a clear winner here. Unless you’re planning on casting anymore curses, I think that makes me the victor.”

 

“Do shut it, Miss Swan,” but this time the smile is genuine when they glance into each other’s eyes. It falls a moment later and Regina clears her throat before looking to her lap. “I thought I was making progress,” she admits, “after everything I’ve done, but living without…”

 

“Memories?” Emma adds.

 

“The weight of them.” Regina looks directly into Emma’s eyes, and when she’s unflinching in her assessment of the woman who had altered her life since birth and the loving gaze doesn’t alter, Regina releases a breath, grateful of Emma’s ability to look at her truth then look deeper still to the woman beneath. “The memories blur,” she says, rocking her body backwards on another deep breath. “A few stick, but most…”

 

Emma slips a hand into Regina’s, slowly intertwining their fingers. The little smile she receives causes her to squeeze the hand a little firmer.

 

“It’s not like I think about what I did every day,” she says. “But every day I still live with the knowledge of what I was once capable of.” Emma keeps her eyes soft, stroking her thumb over Regina’s hand. “But for those six months, I didn’t live with that burden. There was no guilt, no need to be better, to do better. Part of me wants that freedom back. I never realized how heavy the weight I was carrying was.”

 

“I get that, but maybe this is your way of healing. You obviously weren’t dealing with everything, and now it’s all come flooding back, you have no choice. But it’ll get easier again.”

 

“A hope speech, Emma? You sound like your mother. Or Archie.”

 

Emma just shrugs, “I’ve been seeing him.”

 

“You have?” Regina asks, squeezing her hand. “I’ve not even asked how you are. How are you? Really?”

 

“I dunno.” She laughs shakily, because she still doesn’t have much of an answer for that. Taking care of Regina has been her top priority, and a great distraction. “Archie’s been helping me sort out my feelings.”

 

“Which are?”

 

She inhales slowly then lets out the air and counts to five. “That I love you,” she says, inhaling sharply this time and offering a sheepish smile. Regina nods, looking at her intently, but when it doesn’t seem like she’s going to say anything, she ploughs on. “And everything with Hook. Even after everything he did, losing him has been hard. I’m okay mostly, but he’s another person who died.”

 

“I’m sorry I’ve not been there for you. I know everything has been hard for you, too.” Emma goes to protest until Regina lightly pushes her hand beneath Emma’s shirt, trailing her fingers along the stretch marks. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”

 

Emma’s stomach clenches. All she can remember is Regina’s tongue doing the trailing, and the fingers dancing on her stomach results in a throb, which causes her to clench her thighs together. “It’s okay,” she says hoarsely. “We’re getting there, huh?”

 

Regina pulls her hand free, resting it on Emma’s thigh, “We are, sweetheart.”

 

Emma’s stomach flips, before she’s pushing her lips together and nudges Regina’s side. “Did you really just call me that?” She taps her fingers against her thigh with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

 

“It was a slip. We’ll never speak of it again.”

 

Emma chuckles, “I liked it,” and the overdramatic mayor shifts back to soft Regina. “I’ve missed you. This.”

 

“Me too,” she says softly, before leaning forwards to press her lips to Emma’s. “I love you too,” she whispers, and kisses her again, and Emma sinks into it, humming into the sweet kiss.  

 

* * *

 

_And we all suffer_

“I brought us some different movies and snacks,” Emma says, walking into the mansion. She has a pack of cards too, in case Regina feels up to some more interaction, or for her and Henry to play a game of snap whilst she’s cooking dinner. She places the food on the coffee table. Henry gasps. Emma smirks, then Regina glances down and stares.

 

Emma reaches over and takes a ginger bread man from the packet, slowly bringing it up to her lips. Regina tracks her every movement right up until Emma places the head in her mouth and takes a bite. “Hmm, t’is good,” she mutters, biting off an arm then using the dismantled cookie to point to the packet. “You should have one.”

 

Regina’s eyes narrow, “I’m going to murder you,” and when Emma shrugs and finishes off the tasty treat, the mayor stands with threats in her eyes. It’s the first time she’s moved so much in these past weeks, and though Emma wasn’t sure how this was going to play out, she’d had to do something to push her buttons.

 

“Why me?” Emma places a hand on her heart. “Why not murder a perfectly delicious ginger bread man instead?”

 

Henry snorts, his wide eyes flickering between them. “It was nice knowing you, Ma. I think mom might murder you for real.” That doesn’t stop him from reaching over to grab a ginger bread man of his own, biting off its leg then flopping back on the couch. “But these are good.”

 

Emma giggles before slowly retreating backwards. Regina matches her step for step. Henry sits on the couch happily chomping through the food. It’s one of those silly little moments that Emma knows she’ll cherish forever. One day they’ll bring it up when they watch the Shrek specials over Christmas, or in years to come when it comes up in conversation when they’re reminiscing on the past.

 

She turns around and makes a break for it, heading straight for the kitchen, regretting the decision when she spins and Regina pushes her up against the counter. Regina’s eyes remain on her, smirk deadly. Emma shudders when she pushes her body against Emma’s until they’re flushed together. Then their mouths crash, Regina’s hands fisting in Emma’s hair as she presses her lips down forcefully enough to bruise.

 

Emma’s arms are around her as the pressure softens, and Regina’s lips tremble against her own. The salt travels down to Emma’s lips, and she kisses back a little firmer, kisses the side of her mouth, her bottom lip then top lip, closes hers over Regina’s and holds them there. They pull apart, and tears have collected on Regina’s cheeks.

 

“Regina, what’s wrong?” she asks, furrowing her brow before the older woman is nuzzling her face in the crook of Emma’s neck. She shakes her head, so Emma sighs then holds her tightly. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” She doesn’t want to push, is content to sit with Regina watching the same movie on repeat until she feels comfortable doing something more, but she doesn’t want Regina retreating into herself and never coming out again. She needs to know she’s there for her. Always.

 

After a deep breath Regina pulls back and smiles wetly, “It’s nothing,” but her voice waivers and the attempt of waving this off falls when Emma cups her cheek, gently brushing the tears away. Her bottom lip trembles, “I don’t deserve you,” she says, matter of fact.

 

“What?” Emma chuckles incredulously. “That’s…is that why you hid away after-” she bites her lip, keeping her eyes on Regina’s even when she wants to look away.

 

Regina shrugs, contemplates for a moment then nods once. “I think so, I don’t…it’s not you. I always wanted you. But I was never conceited enough to believe I could possibly deserve you” Her words are hoarse and her voice cracks on the last word, but she swallows and pulls back enough from Emma to wipe the backs of her palms along her cheeks. “I don’t know why I was so scared, but I…I never meant to hurt you.”

 

Her arms still circle Regina’s lower back, and she clasps her hands together where they dangle. “Neither did I,” she whispers, “with the curse, I didn’t, if I’d known-” a finger presses to her lips.

 

“It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you. No one blames you. Okay?”

 

“But you said-”

 

“I know what I said.” Regina closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, and Emma only wishes she could give back the choices that were taken from her. “It’s not something I talk about,” she whispers, voice so tight and her body rigid enough it looks as if a single movement might shatter her. Her head shakes when her eyes open, “I don’t know if I will ever be able to.”

 

“I know.” Because Emma does know; she might have escaped the foster care system with only a few scars, but there’s so much baggage trapped inside she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to let it out. She lowers her forehead to Regina’s. “If you ever wanted to…” Regina nods against her and takes a shuddered breath. “And I think we need to talk about the curse stuff. Whenever you’re ready.”

 

They pull away and Regina’s hand is on her cheek, warm and comforting, then she’s leaning forwards, placing a gentle kiss to Emma’s lips. “Soon,” she whispers, and it’s enough to last her until they’re ready to figure this entire thing out.

 

* * *

 

The next time Emma goes back to the loft for some more clothes, Snow insists on going back to the mansion with her. “I’ve never known her to react like this,” she says, pushing Neal’s stroller down the street. “Perhaps she’ll talk to me, at least.”

 

“She’s been talking, but I dunno mom. It’s like everything came crashing down on her.” Emma shrugs, unsure of how to put it into words. Perhaps Snow is right; Regina always opens up to Snow in her own way. Snow had been there for a lot of things that Emma doesn’t even know of, she lacks a fundamental understanding of some of the things Regina has been through.

 

Regina rolls her eyes when they arrive, “I didn’t ask for the cavalry,” but when Snow places Neal on the ground and he toddles over to Regina without hesitation, her smile is dazzling as she hoists him onto her lap. She bounces him, “Hello there, little prince,” and Emma and Snow share a look, one of hope, that maybe things are going to be okay.

 

“It’s not like you to hide away,” Snow says, unflinching when it comes to facing Regina. “I’ve not been hiding away.” Snow arches a brow, causing Regina to huff, “Fine.”

 

She sits beside her and Emma takes the chair, sinking into the background whilst they talk. She would leave, but there’s the potential that Snow might say something to set her off. They might need a mediator yet. And Emma wants Regina to know she can take the deeper subjects, that she’s not just there for the good times.

 

“Gina!” Neal says, snuggling into her chest, “Row, row,” he says, bored with the conversation and not really appreciating not being in the receiving end of all the hugs. Regina picks him up again, his little feet pressed to her stomach, taking a hold of his hands and rocking him gently whilst humming _row row row your boat._

 

“Regina-” Snow places a hand on her arm, “we’re your family. You can trust us.”

 

Emma catches Regina’s eyes and smiles, “Always. Whatever has been going on, whatever you’ve been feeling, we’re here for you.”

 

“Even after I put you all through this and so much more?” she asks, voice wobbling before she lowers her wet eyes to focus on Neal. He giggles as she rocks him again, and she’s smiling through her pain. They don’t say a word, holding their breaths, until… “I don’t deserve any of you.”

 

“Regina…” Emma squints her eyes, wanting to reach out.

 

“It’s true.” She lifts Neal until he’s on her hip, wiggling around whilst she spreads her palm on his back and hugs him gently. “I felt like I didn’t deserve anything.” She chuckles wetly, “Maybe I should book myself an appointment with Archie.”

 

“He would love to have you,” Emma says.

 

Regina looks at her, so much tenderness in her eyes mixed through the pain. “I’ve been thinking about it,” she admits softly, and Snow offers her an encouraging smile. “It’s time I pull myself together.”

 

“How about we take Neal to the park?” Snow asks, “When was the last time you left the mansion?”

 

Regina’s about to protest when Neal waves him arms then places his hands on either side of Regina’s face. He leans forwards to give her a sloppy kiss, and she blows a raspberry on his neck until he’s squealing. The love he gives her is so unconditional so unassuming, so much like his sister’s. It gives her hope for the future. That everything might just be ok after all, as long as she has her family by her side. “What do you say, little prince?” she asks, bouncing him gently.

 

* * *

 

Managing to get Regina to the loft without so much as a protest might be Emma’s biggest achievement yet. Though she’s beginning to regret it when she gets a gleam in those hazel eyes before smirking at her mother. “Oh…Emma kept me quite busy under the curse, dear.”

 

Emma groans, head falling into her arms on the counter top. “Do you have to?” she mutters, knowing her face is a bright shade of red. “I already told her enough.” Snow clears her throat, lifting the tea to her lips and looking at anywhere but them.

 

“Enough?” Regina asks, smirking and unable to hold back a laugh. “You talked to her about us while under that subpar curse?”

 

Emma lifts her head up to nod. “Yeah, I even…” she bites her lip, wondering if she would rather have pay back on her mother or risk being embarrassed any further. She can see how it’s funny. If only she wasn’t at the receiving end of it. “That time we used the strap on” she mutters, putting her head back in her arms.

 

“Emma!” Snow puts the mug down and flails her arms. “It’s not something I need reminding of.”

 

Regina snorts without holding it back, not caring if her refined status is squashed for the moment. It’s worth every second. “Did she tell you how big it was? What shade of purple? How much she-”

 

“Regina! She’s my _mom._ ” Now she’s beginning to understand how Henry had felt. Though, she supposes she had brought this on herself, and if Regina stays in her happy place (one which involves making Snow miserable, and perhaps she should be concerned about that), then she’ll suffer for a while longer.

 

Regina’s eyes widen, “But you enjoyed it so much, darling,” she purrs, and Emma’s licking her lips and looking into Regina’s eyes. She had, and she’s disappointed it only had happened once before the curse broke. They’d talked over things recently, and had been falling back into their old dynamic, but so far a few brief kisses were as far as they’d gotten.

 

Her chest becomes laboured, “Maybe I can enjoy it again.”

 

“Emma!”

 

Her green eyes widen, because for an entire minute she’d forgotten her mother was there. Her head falls back into her arms to the delicious sounds of Regina’s laughter. So _that’s_ why Snow had been avoiding Regina. Can’t say she blames her at all.

* * *

 

 

It’s hardly surprising that when they return to the mansion, arms immediately start wrapping around each other and lips get to sliding and kissing and biting. “Get these off,” Regina demands, tugging at Emma’s pants, and she’s grinning and pulling the jeans off and stumbling to the couch. Her underwear is next to go, but she doesn’t bother with her shirt before lying down on the couch and tugging Regina with her.

 

“Does this mean we’re back together?” she asks, as Regina’s head is buried between her legs. Her fingers grip into the mayor’s hair, loosening enough for Regina to lift her head with a smirk. She licks her glistening lips, winks then gets back to pleasuring her girlfriend. “Oh god…” she says, when she’s building and building closer to the edge, fingers gripping harder. She moans, lifting her hips to the source of pleasure –

 

“MOMS!” Henry shields his eyes, effectively ruining what was about to be a fantastic orgasm TM.

 

Emma’s chest is laboured when Regina stumbles from her position and throws her jeans at her. “Don’t look,” she says to him, giving a stern look to Emma like it was her fault. She pulls the jeans on quickly, even if she’s frustrated and all she wants is to drag Regina up the stairs and tell Henry not to return for a while. Even if that would make her a terrible parent.

 

“Can you guys like… not?” he asks, daring to poke through his fingers. “You’re both gross. I’m glad you’re back together, but-” his hands fling into the air, slapping his legs.

 

“Sorry, kid-” Emma grimaces.

 

“Henry…” Regina bites her lip, not quite knowing what to say. “We’ll erm…be more careful in the future.”

 

Emma shrugs, “I suppose a few parental scars were in order.” Henry groans, giving them both a stern look. “But you’re okay with me and your mom being, eh together?”

 

“Only if I don’t have to see that!” He turns around and stomps out of the room before they do anything else to embarrass him further.

 

“I suppose he approves,” Regina says, breathing out a sigh of relief and circling her arms around Emma’s waist. “We’ll have to continue that later.”

 

Emma groans, still feeling the throw between her legs. She lowers her head to Regina’s shoulder receiving a gentle kiss to her head. “But we’re okay?” she asks, tentatively lifting her eyes. “I really have missed you.”

 

“We’re more than okay.”

 

Emma sighs, lowering her head back down, snuggling into Regina’s warm body. “What a year it’s been.”

 

“I never did thank you for saving me. Twice.” Her chuckle is almost wet. “I don’t even know how to begin.” They sway lightly, holding onto each other and breathing the other in. “Just know that I’ll never leave. I love you, Emma Swan.”

 

“I love you, too,” she mutters, nuzzling her nose against Regina’s neck. “And you don’t have to thank me. I’d do it all over again if it got us here.”

 

“Me too,” she says, wrapping her arms tighter around Emma. They dance for a while, slowly swaying in each other’s arms as if they have all the time in the world. Emma supposes they do, now they’ve finally gotten it right. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt as if she belongs more than she does right now.

 

“No regrets?”

 

“No regrets.”

 

* * *

 

It takes a few months for everything to truly settle down, for them to get into a routine and be content. By which time Emma has practically moved into the mansion. She’d stopped seeing Archie after finally reaching a point where she felt as if she was good, happy, and instead she’s moved to sharing her burdens with Regina.

 

Not that she receives the same in return, or…not as much, but she understands that Regina’s troubles run deep and when she’s back from seeing Archie for her weekly session, she kisses her, supports her and never pushes her to talk. They’re getting there, slowly, but knowing they have their entire lives to be together and to grow together, it makes Emma feel as if she can take on anything.

 

Especially when the tell-tale sign of Regina’s heels greets her in the mansion. “What’s with the dog’s bed and…is that a bowl of dog food? Emma?” she calls, walking into the front room and then abruptly stopping to inhale a sharp breath. Her arms to her sides, hands fisted tight, “Miss Swan!”

 

Emma giggles, cuddling the dog before letting her down. “Go on girl,” she says, as the little Shitzu runs up to Regina and jumps up so her paws press against her shins. She barks once before whining softly.

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Regina says, before looking up to Emma. “Where in the world did you get a dog? And you need to take it back, dear, before I send a fireball to your ass.”

 

“That threats old.” Emma winks before moving over as the dog spins, her little paws tap-tap-tapping against the flooring. She scoops her up and waves the paw at Regina. “Say hello to Regina,” she says in a childlike voice. “This is Princess Peach.”

 

“What kind of ridiculous name is that?”

 

Emma bites her lip, “One you’re going to be calling across a park when it’s your turn to walk her.” Emma lowers the dog and encourages her to run before she’s at the end of Regina’s wrath. She most definitely does not deserve that.

 

Regina’s face drains in colour, “You can’t be serious.”

 

“Baaaabe,” Emma says, swaying her shoulders. “You know I told you I always wanted a family dog.”

 

“It was something we were going to discuss.”

 

“We were… and then you kept rearranging the furniture until I thought I was going mad!”

 

Regina smoothers down her smirk. “You have yet to get rid of those damn flamingos, _darling._ We are not keeping that dog. If Henry-”

 

“He helped me pick her. He’s attached. It’s too late.” Emma bites her lip when Regina purses her lips. Her nose scrunches and her veins are popping out of her forehead. It’s one of those moments that exist on a tightrope. One where you never know which end of the scale Regina’s going to end up on.

 

She doesn’t move when Emma runs behind her, grabs a towel then drapes it around her neck. “Emma” she twists around, “What are you…?”

 

She ties a loose knot over Regina’s throat so it’s hanging down her like a cape. She pecks her girlfriend on the cheek before walking around her. “Now you’re super mad,” she says, chuckling at her own ridiculous joke.

 

Regina narrows her eyes, but her lip twitches. “You’re going to be the death of me, Miss Swan.”

 

“You love me.”

 

The dog trails back into the room, sniffing along the floor before barking when she sees them. She giddily runs up to Regina who’s shaking her head. She lets out a bark of laughter at the stupid cape, and Emma grins wildly. “You’re lucky I do.” She leans forwards and pecks her girlfriend’s lips softly, before she picks the dog up, shifts her against her chest. “And you are cute.”

 

“Aww thanks-” Emma winks. “And I love you too.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes, “I was talking about the dog.”

 

“Princess Peach,” Emma says, pushing her lips together.

 

“How did I fall in love with you?” Emma just shrugs before stroking their new dog. “And don’t think I won’t be getting back at you for this, my love.” Regina says, before taking the dog outside.

 

Emma grins before grabbing a chew toy and following her girlfriend. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she says, handing the toy to Regina as she rolls those beautiful hazel eyes.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Weaved Dreams [Protostar]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15811452) by [cesibear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesibear/pseuds/cesibear)




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